


Lost Dignity

by sOpHiE_s282



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Bickering, Blood Magic, Body Paint, Confusion, Dirty Thoughts, Drowning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Graphic Description of Corpses, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Going to Hell, Insults, Major Character Injury, Mild Sexual Content, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom, Near Death Experiences, Off-screen Relationship(s), Pain, Parent Death, Please Don't Hate Me, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Shame, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, This Is STUPID, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 76,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24166513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sOpHiE_s282/pseuds/sOpHiE_s282
Summary: Isabela has brought her fate upon herself by stealing the Tome of Koslun and tries to reason with the Arishok into letting her go. However, during their talk she discovers that he has an internal conflict and it leads her into striking a strange alliance.
Relationships: Arishok/Female Hawke, Arishok/Isabela (Dragon Age), Female Cousland/Sten (Dragon Age), Female Hawke & Everyone, Zevran Arainai/Isabela
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	1. The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boi, here we go! This is my first fan fiction EVER so.. please do me a favor and don't go hard on me. I had no idea what I was doing but I hope at least somebody finds it good. Or decent at least. I've only wrote the first chapter cos it's hard but yeah. Also, sorry if my English sucks, it's not my mother tongue XD  
> So without further ado, let's get into it, shall we?

It wasn't how she imagined her end. Isabela thought that when her time comes, she'd go out on the sea, on a glorious ship with a glass of whiskey in her hand and pass away peacefully. Sun gently brushing against her dark skin, wind softly playing with her black silken hair. Cries of seagulls overhead as she relished in her last moments on this world and deeply breathed in the smell of saltwater she'd become so fond of drifting through the air and thinking about how complete and exciting her life has been.

Nothing could've been further from her dreams than  _ this _ . She was on a ship, yes, but everything felt wrong here. The way she was brutally brought here against her will. All these bruises the said brutality left and the unbearable heaviness of metal shackles on her wrists and ankles. Her hair was disheveled, not having seen a comb in merely few hours but getting tangled during her arrival here. Normally, she would've tried hiding behind the curtain of her black strands but she knew she can't show the slightest signs of weakness if she wants to get out of this alive ever since she was seated by a desk in an isolated room under the deck.

Besides, there was no escape from those piercing golden eyes glowering at her from the other side of the room. She met this spiteful gaze, trying to show no fear as the Arishok approached her ready for what she assumed to be an interrogation. As he walked towards her calmly but surely, the leather straps of his armor quietly creaking against one another and his massive shoulder pads, which made him look even larger, she realised how huge he truly was. He was a man of imposing height and bulk even for his race. His clawed hands, each roughly the size of her head, were placed on the desk in front of her. The golden ornaments on his enormous curved horns and pointy ears chimed quietly as he leaned forward, stopping only when his face was merely inches from hers. An involuntary wince twisted her mouth. It might be just him but as far as she's concerned the concept of personal space is completely foreign to the Qunari. None of them seemed to give an airborne fuck about those things and right now it pained her greatly. She'd be glad to have some air for herself. It surely wouldn't hurt him to back away just this tiny little bit. Her current position wasn't exactly allowing her to retreat from him and back into the very edge of her comfort zone as the back of her seat was just high enough to stop her from recoiling.

At this proximity she could hear the steady beating of his powerful heart, its sound similar to a soft clap of thunder in slowly approaching storm, as well as the sound of his eyebrows descending in a threatening scowl. As much as she knew she can't show him she's afraid of him she had to admit that he was terrifying like that. Although he looked intimidating by nature thanks to all those rigid features, some of which were more animalistic and creating an image of the ferocious warrior he was, that the Maker has bestowed upon him, all this paled in comparison to a horrifying creature that was revealed only in the heat of battle. Eyes glimmering with bloodthirst, nostrils flared and sharp canines exposed... The first time she'd seen him like this her blood turned to ice. Considering Isabela was safely away from him when that happened, it was hard to imagine what Hawke felt as she stood face to face with this..

He inhaled deeply through his nose with a glint of satisfactory in his eye, apparently picking up the stench of her fear hanging in the air like a thick veil. No doubt if she could hear his heart beating, he most certainly could hear hers madly pounding in her chest. Minute of silence passed like an eternity as he was eyeing her carefully before he opened his mouth revealing sharp teeth glistening in the slight gloom like pearls. The idea of these beastly fangs being able to cut through her flesh as though it wasn't even there made her skin crawl. His hot breath washed over her sending her hair fluttering lightly, as he finally spoke.

"Why did you take the relic?"

A simple question echoed through the empty room. The Arishok ordered his men to leave him alone with Isabela as soon as he got here, after having his wounds tended to, to ask questions in peace. Isabela did not hesitate even for a beat. There was no point in lying right now, she was most likely dead anyway and if it somehow makes Castillon's life miserable she would never miss the opportunity. It was him who got her into this mess in the first place. He most certainly deserved a horde of angry oxmen after him.

"I was following orders. A man named Castillon threatened me with death if I didn't bring it to him."

"Why?"

To some it might seem that he was trying to make her feel more comfortable by his oddly quiet and peaceful attitude as if it was a way of making her pour her soul out into his waiting palms. The calmness of his voice was in fact far from soothing, disturbing even if she had to describe it in one word. He was too calm for her liking. She knew this type of people too well. The Arishok seemed to be one of those who are hard to anger but whose wrath is a true nightmare coming to life. She'd been a witness to his fury as she walked through the nearly decimated city. All these people massacred by his horde.. Part of her is glad that she hadn't been around to see the carnage with her own eyes. But the other part wished she never ran with this stupid book. It was definitely not worth it. She would've given Castillon the thing that caused so much pain in all asses involved in this task and got him off of her but thanks to Hawke she'd seen what the costs were. Lives of hundreds of innocents and if she didn't decide to return, most likely the entire Kirkwall. Now that she thought about it, she wasn't even sure if Castillon would really let her go if she completed her task.. He might have as well had her killed where she stood the moment she "outlived her usefulness".

Not willing to worsen her situation, she told him everything. About how she freed the refugees from Ferelden after Castillon exploited them and intended to sell them into slavery. About their ultimatum. About the jump on the Orlesian ship. About how attaining the relic was supposed to be a blow to morale of Qunari army. And he patiently listened. He listened to everything with a contemplative look on his face. Once she was done talking his eyes trailed off to somewhere above her half exposed shoulder as he mused out loud.

"Selfish. Like all basra."

At his implication, Isabela furrowed her eyebrows and finally abandoned her collected demeanor. She was selfish many times in her life but she wasn't about to let a Qunari to throw it into her face. Not this time.

"Oh no, you will take that back! My life was on the line, what else was I supposed to do?"

A grand show of massive eye rolling from the Arishok only made Isabela more furious. He has no right to judge her for what she'd done. Why is he complaining anyway? Didn't she give him back the sodding thing? His answer did very little to soothe her frustration.

"I'm not here to advise you, thief."

"First and foremost, I have a  _ name _ . I'm  _ Isabela _ . Second, what makes you call me selfish? Was I selfish when I let all those poor souls go? No. Was I selfish when I returned to this shithole that is Kirkwall? No! Was I selfish when I willingly gave this blasted book to you?  _ No _ !"

He straightened up and stared down at Isabela with fire in his eyes as she had the audacity to raise her voice at him. But he didn't make a move to punish her. Only a quiet growl resonating from the depths of his chest was a subtle warning for her to not do that again before he continued. 

"There is this one thing that puzzles me. Why did you come back  _ at all? _ "

And there it was. For a moment Isabela opened her mouth only to close it after she realised she had no idea what to say. Why did she come back? She was already far away from the city before she knew she has to go back. As far as she remembers, she'd never felt her conscience so viciously gnawing at her inside for what she'd done. Only one reason was presenting itself to her. There was only one person she could take that risk for and who could make the guilt build up within should she ever fail them. A person who'd never failed her trust.

"For Hawke. Because she was different from other people."

She admitted, cringing internally as her strained voice cracked. What happened in the Keep still haunted her thoughts. There was nothing she could've done to prevent it. She was too much of a coward to quietly go with the Qunari to face whatever they'd planned for the thief of their precious relic. There was no more boundaries anymore as she decided to fully satisfy the Arishok's curiosity who, judging by his expression, unsurprisingly agreed with her. In his eyes too Hawke was different. Better than others.

"Because she was.. IS the only true friend I'd ever had. I did this for her. She trusted me! Even though she knew I'm a pirate, a thief, a liar, a whore and a bad person in general. And in turn, I trusted her."

Isabela had given Hawke nearly no reasons to trust her, let alone endanger her life so that Isabela could live. But she didn't hope for the massive Qunari to understand. She highly doubted that this how overly charming individual has ever made any friends under his Qun. He's not here to feel compassion towards her. The Arishok tilted his head ever so slightly in mild confusion at the foreign word his people never use and murmured

" _ Whore.. _ "

With a sigh, not exactly trying to hide her amusement Isabela gave him a big smile and supported her chin on her shackled hands. If she was answering everything he asked, then why not. He had it coming.

"Let me paraphrase. A shameless woman leading a very dissolute lifestyle, going around and bedding everyone she likes."

There was a moment of silence as the Arishok stared down at her, most likely already judging her (he's not the only one who does this, really) and visibly regretting asking before he regained his speech.

"I.. see."

The short-lived joy at her interrogator's confusion and slight discomfort soon dissipated as Isabela remembered these last few awfully long minutes in Kirkwall again. The blades flashing, the tension in the air so great that it would seem one could cut on it. And blood. There was so much blood..  _ Hawke, you fucking idiot.. _

"She.. she didn't have to do it.. She knew how I was and yet she refused to give me up to you. Accepted your challenge to a duel."

This time it was Isabela who closed the gap between them and glared daggers at the gigantic Qunari standing before her. Her chains grimly rattled as she leaned over the desk.

"Miriam is no fool. Even with all her skill and battle prowess, she knew she doesn't stand a chance against you. Admit it. You could see it in her eyes. But she decided to fight for me anyway.."

With that Isabela fell onto her chair more heavily than she intended, feeling it in her now bruised backside, and exhaled.

"A good friend.. Far better than I deserved.."

"Perhaps."

The Arishok agreed and turned to leave the room as his questions have been answered. This is all he wished to know. For now at least. Hawke was indeed a proud woman, a skilled warrior effortlessly wielding a blade twice the size of her and her wit just as skillfully as she did her sword. Loyal, bold and good hearted. Truly a basalit-an. He hadn't been mistaken by calling her that. But it was true, she knew she's no match for the Arishok. He indeed saw it in her sky blue eyes as she said those four seemingly meaningless words that set her on a path with no return.

"To the death, Arishok." A faint tremble in her voice was hard to miss as she prepared for the fight that could have been her last. She didn't pick the easier path even though she could just give the thief up and threw her life onto the line for her. True friendships amongst humans are rare and strong and this was certainly an example of it. That was something the Arishok admired and at the same time couldn't get a grasp on.

"Why didn't you kill her?"

Isabela's voice suddenly chiming behind him stops him dead in his tracks just as he reached for the door, making his heart hasten a little. It might seem she didn't say anything important but those words struck the Arishok like a blade into his gut. He slowly turned his head to cast a brief glance towards her over his shoulder with the expression of someone who's just been shot through the heart. She was still there where the Ashaad, who was escorting her, had put her looking at him with intent gleaming in her deep brown eyes, not giving up until  _ her _ questions are answered.

"You had her in your grasp. One strike and she would've been gone. And yet you let her go. You could've killed her. Why didn't you?"

* * *

He stared at Isabela only for few seconds but to him it felt like hours. This one innocent sentence was enough to render him absolutely dumbstruck. Memories flashed like a lightning in front of his eyes leaving him honestly stunned as she repeated her question. Nothing could make the images go away. What was the most clearly imprinted into his mind were these eyes. Blue eyes staring up at him. Even though his brain was telling him to end this conversation in this instant, leave and not return, not a single inch of his body was listening to it, keeping him frozen in place.  _ Why didn't I?  _ He.. was trying to forget.

_ The moment Hawke agreed to battle him in a single combat the Arishok knew something was off about her. There was uncertainty in her eyes. Uncertainty and.. sadness? A shining drop of nervous sweat rolling down her temple did not escape his keen gaze. This thief, she was doing it for, in his eyes was certainly not worth it. The wench didn't deserve such admirable amount of loyalty, especially not from the great Miriam Hawke herself. Even though her companions did not agree with her throwing herself into danger they stepped aside. Judging by an unhealthy pale color of his face and uncontrollable shivers, borderline with convulsions, in his body, her bas Sareebas especially looked like he was about to faint as she drew her sword. He knew far to well what she was getting herself into and he was in no way happy about what she was about to do. The face of the thief had also taken a sickly grayish hue and she didn't even care that two of his men were holding her arms in case she was about to take her chance and make a run for it. Just stared at both the Arishok and Hawke as they stood on the opposite sides of the hall, ready for the final battle. The tattooed elf, whom the Arishok had seen often in Hawke's company as she visited the docks and who - to his utter surprise - spoke with the language of his own people, seemed ever so composed, though a bit more wide-eyed than the Arishok had remembered. The crossbow wielding dwarf swallowed thickly before shooting Hawke a glance and said only two words, unable to say anything else as she was about to engage. _

_ "Be careful.." _

_ And so it has begun. There was no time for games and he knew what she's capable of. He wasn't taking any chances. The Arishok unceremoniously charged at Hawke, determined not to give her even a second to think but to see how she would act on instinct. She was just a tad too slow to react and he sent her crashing into a nearby wall as his head connected with her chest with a delightful crack of her fragile human bones. It's astonishing, how easily it is to break them. This one attack was enough to knock the wind out of her and make her companions shudder with distressed groans on their lips as the said wall cracked under the impact and the entire fortress quaked. Hawke tumbled limply to the floor but wasted no time before rising up to her hands and knees. She had to prop herself up on her blade but once she stood, she became as unflinching as always. After what he'd just done to her it was quite a sight to behold. Who would've thought that a mere human - a woman at that - could ever hope for this kind of endurance? Not to lie, the Arishok was impressed. Most of the humans he fought never survived such an assault from him. If they didn't die immediately, they were too sore, unable to keep going... and died later from severe internal bleeding anyway. Being hit by a rampaging Qunari (especially as large as he) was comparable to being hit by a charging bull. And yet she refused to stay down and die, even pulling herself back up to face him. It was a poor start for her but he didn't seem to have impressed her and if he did, she didn't show it. Sucking in a wheezing breath she glared at him and completely ignored the aghast stare of her blonde haired friend. _

_ "Is... that all you've got..?" _

_ She barked before spitting blood onto the floor and lifted her blade in ready smiling slightly. _

_ "Let us dance." _

_ Such a spirit. He couldn't help but smile at her determination as he advanced and swung both his weapons down on her. The strength and resistance he'd met as she blocked the oncoming swipe astonished him at the very least as he was just expecting her to buckle underneath his pressure. No one could surprise the Arishok the way Hawke did. Every time he thought he knew her well she'd prove him wrong. Just like now. His waraxe and sword slipped down her blade, she angled slightly to the left, and she promptly seized this momentum to counterattack, moving forward to drag the edge across his side.. _

Absent mindedly, the Arishok slowly reached for a bandage wrapped around his torso where a crimson stain over his ribs began to emerge from underneath and ghosted his knuckles against the sensitive spot on his damaged skin. A rhythmic throbbing pain was still there, not nearly as strong as before. Dull, but still present. He felt Isabela's eyes boring holes into the back of his skull but he didn't turn, unwilling to face her. And she kept insisting, prodding for him to answer her when she noticed his unusual reaction that only served to amplify her curiosity.

"You had the sparrow in your palms. One twist of your fingers would've snapped its neck. And instead you opened your hands and let it fly away."

An... interesting metaphor she'd decided to use. And a somewhat accurate one as he himself had once compared Hawke to a sparrow. Always with a knack for getting into trouble, opportunistic and cunning. Like a sparrow indeed.

_.. earning her a hiss of pain from the armored giant as his own blood painted her weapon after a flash of pain surged through his flesh. She was faster than he gave her credit for. It wasn't a serious wound, he'd endured far worse in his life as the commander of the Antaam but her swiftness and grace of her movements on the battlefield were something that gave him a pause. The Arishok faltered only for a split of a second before he had to make a step back to avoid a slash directed at his face this time and he was forced to resume. Neither of them was willing to submit. _

_ The fight went on like this for a long time, longer than anyone would've anticipated, including themselves, as the Arishok and Hawke kept exchanging deadly blows in the lethal dance. With his vision zeroed on her, wary of each movement he circled her as she did him. And strangely enough, all this felt oddly... pleasant. He always relished in the thrill of battle but never had he experienced something like this before. With a grace of a ballerina, Hawke moved across their "arena", light on her feet and seemingly one with the sword she wielded. He knew exactly how it feels to have a weapon that feels like a part of you. He was a Qunari after all. The battle wore on rarely shifting to slight advantage on one side only for it to be neglected by the other soon after. Even other Qunari were now watching with visible interest as this single woman showed enough skill and determination to stand up to their mighty leader. The Arishok, already fed up with all this, attempted to end the duel prematurely by relieving Hawke of her head but she flinched and his axe missed her neck by inches, making a tiny scratch on the surface of her skin, simultaneously leaving him open for an attack. If he didn't back away in time, he would've suffered something far worse than a deep cut on his chin (with how he felt the metal scrape against the bone he'd probably need stitches for this one). After the long exchange, both of them were tired and yet the end was nowhere in sight. _

_ That is until Hawke attempted to dodge a swipe of his sword sideways like she always used to but this time he was prepared and led a quick strike with his other weapon. Hawke cried out in pain as his axe sliced through her leg, leaving a deep wound in the side of her calf, reaching from her knee all the way down to her ankle. She was not getting back up after this one that he was sure of. It didn't stop her from trying but it only resulted in her flesh splitting further open and revealing part of her shin bone and the inside of her muscle tensing painfully as a gout of blood flushed out from the cut and she collapsed again. The Arishok could only imagine the amount of horrendous, blinding pain the injury caused her, having endured similar or worse wounds in his military career, and yet she still attempted to get up.  _ Stubborn little human _ , he chuckled inwardly,  _ never knows when to give up.  _ Just like he'd remembered her from the days she'd visit him in his camp, not exactly every time meaning only business. _

_ The battle was finally over. He put away his axe and approached slowly, licking the blood off of a new wound adorning his lower lip and chin. His clawed fingers curled tightly around Hawke's measly throat as he lifted her up to his eye level. She coughed and sputtered, banging her fists against his wrist but nothing made him release her. The tip of his blade was aimed at her chest. A shrill cry of dismay from her mage friend echoed through the hall as with one swift motion the Arishok impaled Hawke on his sword and lifted her high above his head for everyone to see. Even this basalit-an wasn't able to stand in his way of conquest. She wheezed and squirmed, desperately trying to catch a breath, gripping his hand below her midsection, slick with her vital essence spilling over it as her eyes unexpectedly found his. Something strange happened the moment their gazes connected, something he couldn't quite understand. As though a spark had ignited inside of both of them just from one glance. They both froze in confusion. The adrenaline still coursing through his veins wasn't helping to get it either. She then did something he never, not in a thousand years would've expected her to do. She reached out to him with her trembling hand. He was too shocked to stop it and a strange feeling, like an electricity surged through his entire being as her surprisingly soft, warm fingertips gently brushed against his cheek, leaving crimson stripes in their wake.. _

It still tingles when he thinks about it now, much to his own frustration, and even though the marks she'd left have long been washed away, he still felt as if they were there this entire time. He'd fully expected her to continue to fight, claw at his face and attack but she did no such thing, quite the opposite in fact. But what was the point of her actions? He bit his lower lip, feeling the thread that was holding his wound closed pull at the edges of his skin. What was going on inside the dying woman's head?

_.. Her body slipped down from his blade and hit the floor with a wet "thwack" and she was lying there at his mercy, nothing stopping him from ending her life that even now was slowly but surely draining from her beautiful eyes- beautiful? He blinked in surprise at the thought invading his mind. Since when the Arishok was using positive epithets to describe something? Someone? Especially when it came to appearance? He stood there in utter silence, gawking at Hawke splayed out at his feet and she was gawking at him. The rules of their duel were clear. One of them doesn't walk out from this keep alive. They both knew it. _

_ And yet.. He made no move to end her, no matter how much his pride urged him to do so. She just kept bleeding. She just kept dying.. All of the sudden it felt really stranger to keep going. A shiver danced up and down his spine as his heart painfully squeezed in his chest only to start rapidly hammering against his ribcage as though he was about to have a heart attack.  _ What's happening? _ This was the first time he'd ever felt like this.. Always strictly following the teachings of the Qun, he never made place for emotions or sentiment in his life. Never felt a need to. And yet here he was, staring at the small human who he was intent on slaying not even a minute ago with a searing sensation arising in his chest making it hard to breathe. At this point he wouldn't be surprised if he in fact dropped dead any second now. _

_ As Hawke noticed his hesitation she weakly smiled and opened her mouth to speak but only blood emerged from between her lips instead of words, tears spilling from her eyes following soon after. And that was the moment he realised he neither can nor does he want to do this. In all his years as a warrior he'd never faltered, never hesitated. It was his confidence and resolve that got him where he stands today and gave him the entire Antaam under his command, dancing to his tune. Then what happened all of the sudden now? Memories of all those moments he'd shared with Hawke in his encampment through the last few years came back to him like an obnoxious parasite that buried itself deep into his mind and refused to leave. All this knowledge he gladly shared with her as she curiously questioned him about the Qunari culture and their ways, listening with fascination everything he said. Of all the basra in Kirkwall Hawke was the only one who had the gall to, as humans call it, "sass" the Arishok himself, answering with wit and snarky remarks on any occasion she could and honestly? He didn't mind. After some time that is. At first he found it mostly inappropriate and when it came too far, he even had the bas forcefully removed from the vicinity. Then only mildly irritating and eventually amusing. Every now and then he'd even crack a rare smile and talk back in sarcasm as well. Speaking with Hawke was oddly entertaining to him, at some point he didn't even remember when was the last time he said "Parshaara. Don't pester me any longer." to her. She knew well that he has a lot of things to attend to and when he needed his time, she'd bid farewells and leave him be. He'd even taught her few words in Qunlat and even though she was completely butchering it with her Fereldan accent, she could say her greetings or goodbyes almost perfectly. Though he'd never forget that moment when she instead of "Greetings, Arishok" said "I like your shoes". Half of the camp, including him, was laughing at her back then as her face had taken the color of a beetroot. The term of "friendship" was a concept completely alien to the Arishok. Never had a friend and never needed one. But there was something about this woman.. She was so cheerful and so full of life that it may have been frightening at some point. But no human was able to scare the Arishok. After two years of their bizarre acquaintance she was like a drug to him. If she hadn't shown up somewhere at the docks at least once a week he'd grow anxious in spite of himself. It was unlike her to forget about coming to poke some more fun at him and exchange information about their separate cultures. He trusted her, respected her.. _

_ All this has come to nothing as she lied outstretched on the cold floor, her blood contrasting with snow white tiles. Under the Qun he'd lost a lot of soldiers and people he deemed worthy of his respect but he'd never dwelt on their deaths. This time it was somehow different. All of the sudden him, the cold warrior hard as rock and nearly devoid of any emotions felt way too much in way too short time for him to wrap his head around it all and a slight lump of panic settled in his stomach as he had no clue how to deal with all those feelings treacherously assaulting him in the worst possible moment. He never had to deal with anything like that. All he knew was that he needs to get out of there and get out of there fast. In a single beat he made his decision, no matter the cost. He sheathed his weapon and turned to his men, calling out in Qunlat _

_ [Seize the thief and move out. We're done here..] _

_ As he turned to leave, followed by his a little confused soldiers, out of the corner of his eye he saw all of Hawke's companions rushing over to her. He saw the mage falling to his knees by Hawke's side, his shaking hands flaring up with magical energy, and starting to work on her wounds, desperately trying to keep her alive. But not before shooting the Arishok the most flabbergasted look he'd ever received at his sudden and unexpected act of mercy. He ignored him and left. Without a word of farewell or explanation as the pirate was dragged out behind him. _

Isabela smirked smugly as she'd noticed that her words made the almighty Arishok come to a halt. But her smile gradually faded as he turned towards her ever so slightly wearing his usual scowl but with a look of a lost child in his golden eyes that never rose up to meet hers, staring at the floor instead. Something was off... His voice was strained and quiet as he finally found it in him to speak.

"I don't see how this is any of your concern, thief.."

Her mouth opened slightly as she caught sight of his shoulders visibly slumping. Gone was the proud leader of the Qunari army who never flinched nor backed away from danger. Isabela had absolutely no idea what's happened to him but such a drastic change made her feel.. uneasy to put it lightly. What has Hawke done to him to affect him in such manner? If she hadn't known better she would've said he was growing a conscience.  _ But it's impossible! Is it? _ Not finding his answer satisfying, she probed even more.

"It is very much my business as Hawke is my friend. You literally mowed her down but refused to finish the job! You owe her an explanation."

"I do not owe her  _ anything _ ."

He growled, still not looking her way. Shame or fear? Both options seem highly unlikely considering he's a bloody  _ Qunari _ . His patience was clearly wearing thin but Isabela was nothing if not relentless. She was willing to take that risk.

"You think so? Then what stopped you from ending her then and there?"

This was the straw that broke the camel's back as the walking bundle of nerves and muscle charged over to the desk, startling Isabela out of her skin. He slammed his hands on the desk, the resounding crash was nearly deafening. But in spite of Isabela's expectations for him roaring into her face he just.. stared. And stared and she wasn't sure if she didn't prefer him  _ actually _ yelling into her face. He slowly hissed the next sentence through his clenched teeth.

"Why do you care?"

Gathering the remains of her gall, Isabela leaned forward, her nose nearly brushing against his as she gave him an evil smile. He wasn't going to win so easilyI. Not a chance in hell.

"Funny. I was about to ask you the same question."

Once again the awkward silence fell around them as this final sentence drew a stick into the Arishok's side. He recoiled in surprise and gawked at his captive much longer than he intended to before he sighed and truthfully said

"I do not know."

This.. was far different from what Isabela was expecting. She thought he would make pathetic excuses or say something to make her piss off but instead this. Was he lying? If he was ashamed of the truth, he could but.. No, unlikely, he looks way too confused for that. Letting out a quiet "huh", she began to tap her fingers against the desk. Curious.. What possibly could make  _ him _ show mercy to a human? Perhaps she was initially right and he does have a conscience after all. Qunari are strange people.. Isabela never hoped to fully understand them. Only Hawke was crazy enough to even attempt to do so. 

_ Speaking of Hawke.. _

Isabela's jaw nearly hit the floor at the sudden realisation. There were many times when Hawke would walk out into the city and when questioned by her friends, she'd say that she needs some solitude. Buut.. after her few repetitive disappearances it started to seem suspicious. Eventually they all figured out where she was going as she'd always head towards the docks, despite it being the shittiest place in entire Kirkwall. None of them was that stupid not to connect the facts. They knew she was fond of the Qunari leader and would spend most of her free time in their camp. But up to this moment Isabela didn't expect this fondness to be both sided. She just looked at the Arishok from a whole new perspective.

"Wait.. You  _ like  _ her, don't you?"

His shoulders going rigid and his ears slightly drooping were the signs that nailed it and if she was wrong, she'd eat her own ship. Well.. what's left of it anyway. It took all her self restraint to hold back a burst of laughter bubbling up from her chest.  _ So the Arishok is a big softie then. _ Who would've thought  _ he  _ of all the people..

"Forming such bonds, even between the members of our own race is frowned upon under the Qun."

He dryly snapped at her but didn't outright deny it. So she  _ was  _ right. This was getting more and more interesting..

"And that's why you're freaking out."

All of the sudden it seemed terribly humid in this room and the Arishok felt he desperately needs some air. But backing away right now would only give his captive more satisfactory than he'd already unintentionally given her. Instead he bit his tongue and glared. Isabela smiled. She would rather expect an Archdemon to fly overhead wearing a bonnet and singing the Chant of Light than to ever consider a Qunari - especially this one - adorable. To her "adorable Qunari" sounds like an oxymoron. It's like saying that snow is warm, dwarves are tall and druffalos don't stink. But in this case.. That was something she could use.

"I can help you."

"Is that so?"

He questioned doubtfully. Just how is  _ she  _ supposed to help  _ him _ ? Fortunately, Isabela already had an answer for this.

"I know Hawke and our culture. And I can assure you that if you ignore whatever it is you're feeling, you're eventually going to fall apart. Release and help me, and in return I promise to help you."

Not a very happy perspective. For a moment he even considered her proposal but.. no, this won't work at all! She'd stolen the Tome of Koslun and outwardly confessed to the deed. Once they reach Par Vollen she will be thrown into prison to await her sentence or executed at once. Now that he thinks about it.. so will he probably.. Assaulting the city without contacting the rest of the Triumvirate before was a serious matter even without him sparing Hawke's life.

"Do you know what letting you go is going to cost me?"

He rumbles leaning over the desk towards Isabela again and he doesn't even wait for her to speak.

"My title, my honor and purpose. Everything I am would be taken from me."

Isabela sighed. She couldn't help but feel smug that she convinced this headstrong jerk to even  _ consider  _ what she has to offer but then all her hopes were dispersed as he clearly meant "no". What he said, however, seemed oddly familiar. Here, in this moment he was just like her when she was struggling with herself if she should come back or not. There is still a chance for her to escape. All she had to do now was push the right buttons to drag him onto her side.

"Aren't they going to fuck you over for sparing Hawke anyway? I doubt it will remain your little secret."

As much as it pained him to do so, the Arishok had to admit that she's right. All of his soldiers had seen it and they're without a doubt questioning his sanity right now. He's already as good as dead. The only reason he wanted to return to Par Vollen was his sheer stubbornness. Or.. maybe a futile hope for nothing? He just wanted to see his homeland again.. With the longest and deepest sigh in history, he lowered his head nearly hitting the desk with his forehead. For the first time since he joined the Antaam he doesn't know what to do. But to run now would mean cowardice. Casting away everything he he'd built and earned, and declaring himself what he hated with his whole heart. A Tal-Vashoth. The mere thought makes him cringe. But honestly. What's the difference if he does it now or later? He'd already disgraced himself by disobeying the Triumvirate. He looked up at Isabela and growled shortly, already feeling a slight throbbing in his temples which suggested beginning of a nasty headache.

"You vex my very existence, human. Just what is it you're planning to do exactly?"

That was a simple question requiring a simple answer and Isabela decided to give him just that, having thought about it many times now.

"Get back to Kirkwall, set a bait for Castillon and either blackmail him into leaving me be, or slit his throat. Either would work. But I can't do it alone."

Externally, Isabela was calm and relaxed but inside she felt like she could fly. This was a small victory but Maker reach down and slap her in the face if it wasn't satisfying. Though.. the face the Arishok gave her wasn't exactly reassuring or meaningful. Damn him for being so hard to interact with..

"So.. you in or out?"

The Arishok took a deep breath and lifted his chin, looking down at Isabela with narrowed eyes. Kirkwall. _Again_. This conversation has to end before he changes his mind. She yelped as he suddenly grasped the chain and yanked her hands closer to breathe into her face, putting pressure on each word he spoke.

"Tonight or never. But if you try to trick me, I'll wring your neck."

He retracted but not before slipping something cold, something metal into her hand. She released a breath she'd been holding ever since she asked the last question that would determine her next move. She did it. She managed to convince the Arishok to help her escape and deal with the Antivian asshole that is Castillon in exchange for help from her side as to.. taking a liking to Hawke??? As ridiculous as it sounded, it has been done and she had no regrets whatsoever. But half of the plan had already failed. Being stuck with a gigantic Qunari was something she wanted to avoid but when he puts it like that... She wasn't stupid. She knew that attempts of betraying the Arishok's priceless and already fragile trust he offered was as smart as walking up to a sleeping dragon to open its mouth and step inside, nicely waiting for it to eat her. Although it's going to be hard to hide almost seven foot tall Qunari in the city that most likely wants his head, it could be nice to have someone so skilled watch her back. She only has to make sure she doesn't piss him off enough to have her ass quite literally handed to her. As the Arishok stepped back and finally left the chamber closing the door behind him, Isabela opened her palm to see a small shining key resting where he'd left it.  _ Tonight or never. _


	2. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the incident in the Keep Miriam Hawke finally wakes up. Confused, hurt and both physically and mentally exhausted. Once memories come back, there's nothing she can do to push them out of her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here goes the second chapter. Man, I had no idea how to do this properly but I eventually did it. It's taking a long time because in June I'm having an exam and I have to study. Buuut... fortunately, this may serve as practice of English, am I right m >:)

There was darkness. Nothing else but an ever present abyss that closed around her like a thick blanket. Surrounded by the endless blackness Hawke felt as though she was weightless and could fly away at any given time. She looked around in confusion. Nothing around her, no up nor down. What is this place and how did she get here? Strange.. Perhaps this is a dream, maybe some kind of Fade? She doesn't quite remember what she was doing and any attempts to recall anything are in vain. It's all too fuzzy. Blurred images and shapes pass through her mind, distant muffled screams echo in her head but there's nothing she can clearly make out of it. Hesitantly, she takes few steps forward, their sounds ring out loud and clear, slowly dying out as they spread across the void but nothing seemed to change.

"Hello?"

She calls and her own voice answers her teasingly as it travels further away from her. 

_Hello- Hello.. Hello..._

Very slowly it was getting unsettling. This place seemed so vast and empty and yet she felt warm and cozy. Her eyes started darting around, trying to find any sort of focus in this nothingness. And there she'd seen it. A bright figure far away from her, light grey contrasting against the blackest black. Finally.. More than eager to find out what's going on, Hawke headed towards the person with a smile on her face. But the closer she got the more off she felt. Step after step she approached the mysterious entity, its shape slowly becoming more tangible. At first she thought the person is wearing bright clothing but then she realised.. it was their skin. They had nothing on save for a pair of simple linen pants and high leather boots. A silver mane with multiple small braids in it, shining like a beacon in this void was reaching their shoulder blades and as her eyes wandered its length from bottom to the top she noticed something very peculiar. A pair of curved horns of impressive size sprouting form the person's forehead. A Qunari. And a familiar one at that.. Her mouth went dry as she suddenly realised who she's looking at. As awkward as she felt, she attempted a conversation careful not to say anything stupid again.

"Shanedan, Arishok.."

His head moved ever so slightly, apparently responding to the sound of her voice before he decided to face her. There he stood in all his glory just as she remembered him. Towering above her small feminine frame, her head barely reaching his shoulder, he looked down at her with his stunning golden eyes that reminded her of a bird of prey. It was kind of hard to focus on his face as Hawke has found the sight rather appealing. The vast expanse of his exposed chest slowly rising and falling in the rhythm of his steady breath was really working on her. Heat rose up to her cheeks as a ghost of a smile traced his scarred lips. _Huh._ . _I don't remember him having a scar on his chin…_ Kicking herself for allowing such thoughts about him - a Qunari - of all the people into her mind she lowered her eyes, hoping she could hide the blush on her face. It was inevitable for her to grow fond of the Arishok as her visits in his camp became more frequent with each month, their talks prolonging every time she came. But she really shouldn't think of him that way. Hawke almost laughed hysterically at herself for feeling something that has no future whatsoever. As far as she knows, Qunari don't form very close relationships even with each other, not speaking of other races. He even told her so himself. He's no more than a friend of hers.. _Oh, Hawke. What a terrible liar you are..._ She wanted to laugh but at the same time her heart cramped painfully in her chest. That's what she'd been telling herself for the past year.

At first when she discovered her feelings for the Qunari warlord, she panicked. The warm flutter in her stomach she'd felt at the sight of him that day scared the shit out of her. This was a bad idea if she'd seen one. It's not even about them being form two completely different cultures and races, that she was fine with for some reason. He is _the Arishok_ for Maker's sake! Why would he even think to associate with a human that way? Her worst fear was that she'd never find the reciprocation in him. There was no chance he'd feel the same way about her. Qunari are an odd race. Cold. To them emotions are a sign of weakness. So when she felt warmth gathering inside of her as he greeted her without his constant frown, she freaked out. The last thing she remembered was him tilting his head and saying something about her not looking too well. She woke up an hour later in her mansion with her mother Leandra watching over her. It turns out she'd fainted and was brought here by a couple of Viddathari. The elven converts were instructed by the Arishok himself to carry Hawke home not to cause unnecessary commotion by two Qunari soldiers carrying an unconscious person. The tensions between them and the inhabitants were high enough without such a show. So ashamed she was of herself for passing out in front of her friend that she didn't come close to him for over two weeks. In truth she also hoped for her feelings to subside and eventually disappear if she'd distanced herself. Unfortunately that wasn't the case. There was no way her heart would obey her. She didn't have any influence over it and it was _infuriating._ Each day was a torture, even her companions could see her suffering. Once Anders even though she's ill or something and offered his help. And honestly she kind of was but it was nothing he could heal. The moment she laid eyes on the Arishok again it felt exactly the same if not worse. Chuckling to herself inwardly she realised that she's doomed. During the time of her isolation her little crush developed into something far greater. A longing she'd never experienced before. And lo and behold, the Arishok literally _scolded_ _her_ for being away for such a long time to make it even more funny. Perhaps he did feel some kind of connection after all? To hell with consequences. Even if Andraste herself came down from the sky to set her on fire for such heresy, she didn't care. She wanted to be with him even if the world wanted to drag her away in chains. Hawke was well aware of the torment she's condemned herself to. Every look of his mesmerising golden eyes was leaving a bleeding wound that would never heal without a scar in her heart as she knew whatever it is she feels doesn't have the slightest chance. Perhaps she's just a masochist.. But the worst pain was coming when she was reminding herself that he cannot stay here forever. As they talked, he'd slip a part or two about his homeland and the barely perceptible tone in his voice, she'd learned to recognise, was speaking volumes of his longing to leave this city that he detested and return home. To the hot and humid jungles of Par Vollen where no one was intent on making his life miserable as sister Petrice used to be before she was killed by a Sten he'd sent to avenge Saemus' murder. _Good_ _riddance._

When he spoke she shuddered. His deep voice came to her from really far away, so quiet that she could barely make out a greeting.

"... Shanedan, Hawke..."

She couldn't do this anymore and pretend nothing's happening. She wanted to embrace him, feel the thundering heartbeat against her cheek and never have to endure this pain ever again. To kiss him even if he wouldn't understand the significance of this act. If this is indeed a dream, she will be easily forgiven. But something was holding her back. She was walking towards him without an effort seconds ago and yet her legs weren't obeying her will any longer. Shame, perhaps? The subconscious fear of something horrible that was about to happen petrified her.. and then she saw the reason of her hesitation. A long slash on the level of his ribs. In panic she wasn't even thinking how she didn't notice it before as a startled gasp left her lips. Droplets of crimson were slowly rolling down from the wound. The same color as the warpaint - the Vitaar, as he told her - on his body. Fearfully, Hawke looked up at the Arishok with the look of "who harmed you?" in her eyes and to her utter surprise and dismay he'd answered the unspoken question, loudly this time, with his smile turning back into a frown.

_"You did."_

These two words. These two small seemingly insignificant words made her feel as though she'd been struck by lightning. She hurt him? How did this happen? She'd never.. Blinding pain settled in her chest and for a moment she thought she would choke. _Damn, it's hard to breathe…_ The numbness has spread into her limbs and soon she couldn't feel them. In shock and horror she watched her beloved Qunari turn on his heel and begin to slowly walk off into the darkness, ignoring her hand she'd outstretched his way, silently beckoning him to come back…

That's when something wet touched her cheek and everything faded. Hawke's eyes snapped open as the wet squishy thing touched her again. _Dear Maker!_ She thought the pain seconds before was bad but this.. Her entire ribcage felt as though it had been completely crushed at some point, sharp stabs of agony surging through her with each beat of her heart, and her legs seemed dead. Especially the left one. The other was being torn asunder by sharp throbbing. Her wheezing breath rung out tearing the silence apart as her pupils shrunk and expanded again while she tried to process what the actual fuck was going on. He was there like a second ago, clear as day.. _What-_ A happy panting next to her ear sent a shiver through her body as a.. not exactly the freshest hot breath filled her nostrils and she soon found herself face to face with her dear mabari who didn't stop himself from giving her another big lick on the face. That's when she realised she was at home. It _was_ a dream then.

"Charlie, no! Ew!"

She coughed, instinctively holding up her hand (Andraste's flaming butt, her arm was killing her!) to block out the stench of a dog mouth but he didn't seem frazzled by this, instead barked happily and started to bounce around excitedly. In an instant the door to her room slammed open nearly flying out of its hinges and startling her heart out of her chest. Her mother stood in there staring at Hawke as though she'd just seen a ghost.

"Hawke!"

Familiar female voice cried as Merril came into her view with the same expression her mother wore except for a huge smile stretching from one pointed ear to another. She almost, _just almost_ threw her arms around Hawke but composed herself in the last moment. Miriam was honestly grateful as she didn't want to get a bone crushing hug while having already been crushed.. Leandra on the other hand without a second thought rushed over to the bed and immediately covered Hawke's forehead with small kisses. Through the opened door soon came Fenris charging all the way up here from the lower floor with his lyrium markings white hot and eyes blazing with spiritual blue but at the sight of her awake he released a long breath letting the light fade and collapsed onto the nearest seat. Not to lie, the way they all came storming into her room was scaring the life out of her. What.. exactly _happened_ while she was out..? Why are they acting as though she just came back from the dead? She groaned, feeling the breathtaking ache in her torso and protested against her mother vigorously attacking her face with way too much affection.

"Mom. Stop, enough. Please!"

She complied but as she leaned back, Hawke's heart sunk at the sight of honest tears of anguish rolling down her cheeks. This was the same look she'd seen in her eyes back in Lothering when Carver..

"Darling, don't _ever_ do that to me again! We thought we'd lose you.."

"Wh- why? What's happening?"

They honest to Maker scared her. She looked at them all silently begging them for answers. Anything that would explain what's going on. Why are they falling to pieces? Why is she so sore? Fortunately.. or unfortunately, Merril in her overly talkative nature and apparently under the influence of a large amount of stress started talking like she was being interrogated.

"Hawke, you got hurt so bad, you've been out for three days! For a moment we thought you're not going to make it, Anders was standing on his head to keep you alive!"

At the mention of Anders Hawke cringed a little as she realised that the healer is in fact missing. All the information Merril just spilled onto her felt like a bucket of ice cold water over her head. She blinked in surprise and looked at her as though she'd just smacked her in the face. She was still in severe shock and the nervousness in Merril's words did not make it easier for her to comprehend.

"Oh, okay, okay, slow down. Where is he?"

Having already gathered and stood up to approach her Fenris rolled his eyes and winced slightly, answering before Merril had a chance to do so.

"Downstairs, probably jabbering about cats again.."

"Wait, what?"

Her expression was speaking for itself, there was no need to voice her confusion. Everyone in this household knows Anders is a cat person but hearing Fenris put it like that was.. disturbing just like _every_ _sodding thing_ happening right now. Today's just getting increasingly interesting. Weird things are just stacking on top of one another each time someone speaks. Just wonderful! If it keeps going like this, Hawke's head is eventually going to blow up. Luckily Leandra quickly followed up with clarification. A clarification that made Hawke's heart skip.

"What he meant was that.. Your friend Anders has been ceaselessly working on your most severe injuries for the past two days. It left him.. drained."

On an impulse, Hawke sat up, immediately regretting her decision however, as an agonizing pain tore through her chest leaving her breathless until her mother with a horrified look on her face gently lowered her back into bed. The blanket slipped down from her chest to reveal a thick layer of bandages on her bare torso, starting under her collarbone and ending just above her navel. A faint memory of a sword running her through made it even harder to breathe. How in the world is she still alive? _Oh. Right, Anders. Who attacked me anyway?_ It was too hard to concentrate with the pain suffocating her. Merril quickly hurried to aid and lifted Hawke's head to carefully feed her an elfroot potion. The nearly tasteless liquid already alleviated the pain as it traveled down her gullet, soon numbing her aching leg as well. She breathed out with relief. Merril might not be talented when it comes to magical healing but having been raised by Dalish elves she's a damn good herbalist.

"Take it easy, Miriam."

The elven mage whispered as she placed Hawke's head on the soft pillows. The news her mother has revealed to her have made Hawke more uneasy just as she thought it couldn't get any worse. She herself was not a mage so she had no idea what her mother meant by "drained". Maybe Bethany would but her younger sister isn't here to enlighten her. However, Hawke was glad that at least she was _somewhere_ after what happened in the Deep Roads. Leaving one more potion on the cabinet, Merril stood up and headed for the door.

"Try to rest. I'll check on him."

Even though it was supposed to be comforting, Hawke didn't feel better at all to know that Anders needs to be "checked on". This uncertainty has just made her hate the idea of being bedridden even more. If something happened to Anders because he was trying to help her she'd hate herself. Leandra smiled warmly to her daughter, glad to see her alive and mostly well, and ran her fingers through her short black hair.

"I'll bring you something to eat. You must be starving."

Just from hearing her say that, Hawke felt (and heard!) her stomach growl loudly like a vicious beast demanding a meal at this instant. Indeed, she was starving. She hasn't eaten anything in three days after all. _Yes please._ In spite of herself she hungrily licked her lips and nodded. A meal would be very much appreciated right now. It doesn't even have to be something fancy. Anything would do, just make it a lot. On her way out of the room Leandra turned to Fenris.

"Keep an eye on her, will you, young man?"

"Miriam's not going anywhere, mistress Amell."

He assured her as she left. A distasteful frown twisted Hawke's face. After two years of friendship with the former slave she had learned that when Fenris says something he very much _means_ it. He pulled a chair closer to her bed and immediately after he sat down, Charlie forced his massive head onto his lap and cast him an expectant glance. Grumbling something under his breath, Fenris started scratching him between the ears earning a contented murmur from the dog but watching Hawke closely this entire time. The stare he was able to give could melt everyone's courage in seconds but luckily this time he was calm. Hawke hated being the one receiving "the look" that screamed "I'm going to murder you". Happened only once before but it was something she'll remember till the day she finally leaves this world and not in any way in positive meaning. It was just an accident, a clumsy choice of unsuitable words that made him _really_ angry. Nothing a simple apology and a round in the Hanged Man couldn't fix though. Usually there was no arguing with Fenris but she tried voicing her protest anyway.

"Fenris, please. I want-"

"Absolutely not."

He interrupted her before she had a chance to finish her sentence as he already knew where she was going with it.

"Have you _seen_ your leg? It has like twenty stitches in it and for a moment there we thought it will need to be amputated."

Hawke blinked and looked down at the blanket where her legs were. That would explain the excruciating pain. Slowly, she pulled the blanket to the side, uncovering the offending limb. It wasn't hurting this bad anymore, thanks to Merril but the thick bandage wrapped around it gave her the impression of seriousness of her wound. All of the sudden her eagerness to stand up dissipated as she realised how torturous it would be for her. She glanced up at her tattooed friend.

"Fenris, what happened.?"

His frown seemed to deepen as Charlie whined and flattened his ears against his skull. Fenris looked at her but his grim expression bore a great deal of concern and a hint of surprise.

"You.. don't remember?"

" _Apparently."_

Hawke huffed annoyed and lifted her arms in frustration, ignoring the pain in her pulled muscles and urging Fenris to continue his explanation.

"The Qunari finally made their move to attack Kirkwall. And you.."

His voice grew more irritated as he continued, jabbing his finger at her. A tight knot began to form in Hawke's stomach as she listened.

".. for all of your _naivety and foolishness_ decided to accept the Arishok's challenge to a single combat with Isabela as a prize. Don't get me wrong, I respect your courage and loyalty but _the Arishok?_ Are you out of your mind?! This is a miracle he- Hawke?"

Fenris stopped his lecture on reason and sense as he noticed Hawke's eyes were now bulging out of their sockets and her jaw hung open. All the memories of that one terrible night came slamming into her like the Arishok himself. She suddenly remembered _everything_ . Gently touching her chest, where she'd been struck, feeling the itching in the edges of her wound that his sword has left.. She dumbly stared forward as the realisation hit her. All this.. she remembered how Aveline asked her to come along to negotiate with the Arishok but on what matter she couldn't quite recall. Something about some elven criminals who'd converted to the Qun. She remembered how Isabela ran away with the Tome of Koslun leaving only a quickly scribbled apology letter. The cursed book could've prevented so much death and destruction.. And Aveline shouldn't have been so stubborn about the elves. Arguing with the Arishok and trying to make him hand over those he considered of his own seemed like a _terrible_ idea. After that everything went downhill. As Aveline was trying to pull her out of there after the Arishok ordered his men to rain the unwanted guests with javelins, she looked back just for a second. He held her glance for a short bit, cold and ruthless. Her heart broke. Just like now as she remembered how he'd betrayed her. Perhaps she was wrong and there was nothing between them..

The thought caused her way too much anguish to dwell on it back then when she had a city to save but now? Now she was free to despair in vain all she wanted. There was no hurry. He'd let her hopes up only to take them away and shatter them on the ground under his heel. Cruel, cruel bastard. For what he'd done to the innocent people of Kirkwall she had every right i be mad, she wanted to hate him with every fiber of her shaken being but.. she couldn't. She couldn't spite him even after the mayhem he'd left in his wake. She couldn't hate him even after she'd seen him carelessly toss the severed head of the Viscount to the floor. All those lives taken and for what? A book that was no longer there? Because of the profanities and hatred laid down at his feet? She will always remember the faces of horrified men and women staring up at her with glazed, unmoving eyes, blood splattered across the streets..

She did the only thing she could. Fought her way up to the Keep to save who else was left to save. Even if it meant confronting the Arishok. But even that wasn't easy. Every time she'd cut down one of the Qunari soldiers, who stood in her way, she'd see a familiar face and remember what they used to be like in life before she'd sunk her blade into their hearts. After two years she knew almost every Qunari and Viddathari in the encampment. And nothing pained her more than to slaughter those she used to know. It felt like such a waste. So many lives unnecessarily thrown away.. Hawke had seen so much death even before she escaped from Lothering that she was trying to prevent it every time an opportunity presented itself. The only moments when she never saw mercy as an option was when she'd encounter slavers (needless to say, Fenris was always delighted to relieve the world of them).

The moment she stood before the Arishok, Hawke tried to keep her facade of a woman she needed back then. Composed and as cold and ruthless as he was. The Arishok agreed to parlay but demanded a price for peace Hawke wanted to restore. She had nothing to give him and even her sacrifice for the greater good wouldn't satisfy him. It wouldn't allow him to return to Par Vollen with his honor unscathed. And then a miracle happened. None other than Isabela herself decided to show up in the last moment and brought back the stolen relic. At least she was there to soothe Hawke's aching heart. Her friend didn't abandon her in the most dire situation. Miriam remembers her grumbling about growing a soft spot. "I blame you for this, Hawke. If not for you, I'd be far away from here now." She'd told her. And in truth Hawke didn't mind. Isabela could blame her all she wanted and it doesn't matter. She'd proven worthy of trust and friendship Hawke has given her. But then, just when it would seem everything was going to be alright, the Arishok ordered to apprehend Isabela to bring her to Par Vollen for judgment. He'd hurt Hawke yet again. She wasn't going to lose both of them, no way. Any attempts to reason with the Qunari warlord proved futile, no matter what she proposed. The thief was to face punishment for her crime. Isabela was aghast to put it lightly. Hawke turned to her pirate friend and was about to apologise that it has come to this when the Arishok proposed his own terms. He challenged Hawke. A duel to the death. If Hawke defeats him, the thief will be granted freedom, if he defeats her, he takes Isabela and leaves Kirkwall.

Her heart skipped a beat as he stared her down, waiting for her response. So far it was the toughest choice she had to make. Lose both him and Isabela or kill the only person she'd ever considered close to her in this particular meaning.. Because to her he wasn't a vicious monster everyone thought him to be. Under the harsh exterior of a warrior and a killer, she'd seen a person just like any other. A person whose life mattered to her and whose presence she valued above everything else. She couldn't do this. She couldn't kill him but she also couldn't let him take Isabela. Not after she'd come back only for Hawke. His terms were clear however, and no further negotiation was possible. Looking back at her companions, she'd seen only the looks of "Don't. It's not worth it.". Isabela stared at her with horror in her widened eyes, her lower lip trembling. Hawke knew it isn't right to betray her like that. So she accepted, ignoring the dismayed looks from Anders and Varric. To her surprise, even Fenris looked much paler than he should. With her heart falling to pieces and tears threatening to fall, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice more or less successfully she agreed to battle her former friend.

There was no place for expecting anything marvelous. Hawke was well aware that she doesn't stand a chance against the seasoned warrior he is. He had an advantage of years of professional training and experience while she was but a self trained amateur. He attacked without a moment of hesitation. Quick. Quicker than she could've anticipated. The moment he knocked her to the nearest wall using his hard skull only, she knew this is a lost cause. _Honestly Miriam, what were you expecting?_ She asked herself as she barely gathered up after the impact. There was no doubt that she broke something, most likely all of her ribs and for a moment there she thought she'd her lung punctured and some of her organs squished as the taste of blood filled her mouth. She supposed she should be honored that the Arishok found her a worthy opponent. Her self regard wasn't that high in that particular situation to be entirely honest.. She was truly surprised that it took as long as it did and that she even managed to land few hits on the Arishok. For just a moment she thought he was going easy on her.

But when a soul rending cry escaped her mouth as his axe effortlessly sliced through her leg she knew she was mistaken. Even a second of hesitation meant loss of this fight but looking at her calf.. she nearly threw up at the sight of bare bone and torn muscle, blood pouring out from the wound. The pain was unbearable, worse even as she tried to lift herself up. She couldn't stand. It was over. Hawke fought against the clawed fingers grasping her neck, silently begging the Arishok to stop this madness. Few days ago she would've given anything only for him to touch her, feeling her whole body aching for closer connection. But this wasn't what she dreamed of. She saw all her friends over the Arishok's shoulder as he lifted her off her feet. Anders, pale as the grim reaper itself, for sure screamed out when the blade cleanly went through her gut but the blinding pain that filled her entire being caused a white noise to replace any sounds in the vicinity as darkness fell over her eyes. The end was approaching mercilessly quickly as she struggled to breathe, clutching at the Arishok's wrist below her stomach. And then through the darkness she'd seen the golden spots of his eyes and his surprised face. Something snapped within her and judging by the look on his face she had no doubts he'd felt it too. All the anger and sadness seemed suddenly so irrelevant.. All of it was gone. Unable to keep fighting she wanted to at least somehow tell him how much he meant to her before the spark of her life is snuffed out. Before it's too late. Barely hanging by a thread, she hesitantly reached out and touched his rigid cheek, naturally warmer than her skin, before he lowered her to the ground letting her fall on the floor. A wave of relief washed over her as the blade left her body, even the pain had subsided, making place for numbness and deathly chill creeping up her arms and legs, crawling towards her quivering heart. The only thing she could hear was her own racing pulse thrumming in her ears. Hawke tried to speak but the blood welling up in her throat stopped any words she was about to say. She knew she was dying for sure. "I'll see you again.." She wanted to cough out before she gave into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness, not expecting to wake up ever again with the befuddled Arishok being the last thing she saw before she completely blacked out.

And yet she did wake up.

Biting her lower lip, she wasn't able to keep her tears from spilling over her face any longer as she realised what happened. She'd lost both of her friends in spite of trying to save at least one of them. Everything she gets involved in always had to end in a disaster in one way or another. Every time.. And even though she always tried to fix what she'd done wrong, it was far too late for it this time. There's no reason for the Arishok to return here unless he decides to finish what he'd started and burn Kirkwall down to the ground. But she will most likely not be here to witness it. Somehow the thought of never seeing the stubborn and sarcastic Qunari ever again was more painful than the injuries he'd inflicted upon her, more than his betrayal. The Arishok had given Hawke all the reasons to hate him and be happy that he'd finally willingly removed himself from her life. But she couldn't bring herself to say "I'm glad that he's gone.". Hawke brought her hand to her mouth to muffle the coming sob. She felt like dying all over again.. Perhaps even wishing she'd perished back where he'd left her. Why would he do that to her?

"Hawke."

She jumped and gasped at the touch on her shoulder. Fenris was looking at her tears with understandable concern and confusion. Charlie whined again and put his head in the side of her bed, licking her other hand in an attempt to comfort his owner even if only slightly. Miriam swallowed up the next sob and forced a broken smile.

"I'm- I'll be.. alright. I ju- just need some.. time.."

With a frown Fenris retracted his hand and sighed deeply.

"I had warned you, remember? Friend of no one. You shouldn't have-"

She lifted her hand to silence him. Not the right time for "didn't I tell you?", she wanted to hear none of it right now. Such talking won't bring her relief, quite the opposite of relief. Hawke had always been a headstrong fool, too quick to trust and bond, and she always had to learn the hard way. If she were to regret everything and grieve, she'd do so in solitude to find solace in peace and quiet of her bed chamber.

" _Don't._ Please.."

Fenris didn't argue with Hawke as he could see how hurt she was. He knew exactly how it feels to fall apart, keeping the grief and hatred inside until it nearly makes him burst. She was now living through her own nightmare and he had no intention to make it harder for her. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Leandra walk in carrying a bowl of warm stew that had been served for supper. Hawke didn't seem to notice the mouth watering smell of the stew as her mother entered the room, most likely too preoccupied with her broken heart. The moment Leandra saw Miriam, her last remaining child, crying into the coverlets, her cheerful expression turned distraught.

"Miriam.. Are you alright?"

She asked as she placed the bowl next to the healing tonic on the cabinet. Neither of them really noticed when Fenris decided it's about time he ceased his intrusion. He quietly left the room to join others downstairs and let Hawke rest, recover from her initial shock. Leandra wanted to embrace her suffering daughter but at the same time she didn't want to cause her unnecessary pain, having witnessed the full extent of her injuries. Hawke sobbed into her hands again and quietly croaked, her voice completely worn out and soaked through and through with exhaustion.

"No.. but I- I will in- in a moment. Ju- just give me s- some time.."

She knew mother would understand. And she did. Clueless as to the reason of Hawke's breakdown, she left the meal where it had been placed and gave her a kiss to the tuft of her raven black hair before she headed towards the door.

"Try to rest sweetheart. I'll be downstairs if you need me."

The moment the door were silently closed (a stark contrast to how they'd been opened), Charlie jumped onto the bed and nuzzled his head into the crook of Hawke's neck. Miriam eagerly hugged her furry companion, clinging to him for comfort and slowly trying to ease the sobs shaking her broken body. Charlie was always there when she needed someone who will neither judge nor speak any word of comfort or scold but simply listen and just be. His presence alone was enough to already make her ragged breath even out. In truth, were she in any shape to stand and walk on her own, she'd immediately go to the Hanged Man, straight to Varric. The dwarf was one of the best friends she could ever ask for, even if he'd most likely throw a sarcastic retort at her or try to talk some sense into her but she could tell him anything and he'd never laugh or look at her with disdain. He would understand every single time. And now she really wished he came by to check on her so that she could share her sorrows with him. It's not like her relationship with the Qunari went unnoticed by her friends but none of them knew the full truth. Not even Varric.

Charlie licked her ear as she brushed her cheek against his neck, grateful to the Maker that her mabari survived the darkspawn onslaught at Lothering and all the dangerous situations she'd dragged him into. By the time she finally collected herself, her supper has already cooled down. It didn't take even a minute for her to swallow the contents of the bowl. It felt great to have her belly full once again after three days. Unsure of what to do next she collapsed back into the sheets, allowing Charlie to lie down next to her, gently stroking his back. She stared up at the ceiling with hollow bloodshot eyes as she reflected on the recent events. The fate has a twisted sense of humor, always making her the butt of the Maker's cruel jokes. Normally she had already got used to it, it wasn't even making her mad anymore, but this was too much. It seemed like after the horrible heartbreak she'd suffered the oblivion sang to her. Looking out the window, watching the warm amber light of sunset spilling over the entire city as it prepared for the night's rest, Miriam sighed. She was tired of losing everybody, one by one, until.. It's not what she wanted to think about but nothing else was on her mind no matter how hard she tried to chase these thoughts away. Hawke has always been an emotional woman but all those feelings attacking her like wild animals was something new. She wanted to get away from them. Only for a short moment she thought how delightful it would be to just feel.. _nothing_ . At all. For the first and last time in her life she envied the Tranquil for not having to deal with such things. No emotions, no thoughts, no heart problems. With a chuckle she realised that if Bethany had heard her ever say shit like this she would most likely check her temperature to see if she isn't babbling in fever. _As soon as I recover, I'm going to kill someone._ Hawke bitterly thought. _Preferably a Qunari._ There's a lot of so called Tal-Vashoth on the Wounded Coast so there shouldn't be a problem to find them. Bandits and murderers. No one is going to miss them. Though, the only problem - or _problems -_ are going to be Saarebas. The Qunari mages have already got under her skin after the first time one had unleashed his full power against Hawke and her friends. Compared to human or elven mages they're _ridiculously_ more powerful. No wonder the Qunari fear them that much. Even Varric, a _dwarf_ who's more or less magic-proof, had a hard time gathering up after they got blasted. But that's not a thing she should worry about in this particular moment. She hasn't recovered yet after all. For now she needed to rest.

Some normal sleep would be most welcome after three days of unconsciousness. Hugging Charlie, who had fallen asleep some time ago, she closed her eyes and buried her face in pillows, not even minding the smell of dog fur anymore. For few hours the sleep wouldn't come to her, in spite of the terrible exhaustion. The dull aching in her bruised body wasn't making it easier. The sun had long gone down when Hawke realised she'll have to make use of the potion Merril has left her. She tossed it in one big gulp and fell back into the bed with a relieved sigh as the pain subsided.

After that, it didn't take long for her eyes to grow heavy. Gradually, she slipped down towards the Fade. And then with an urgent jolt she suddenly woke up from her slumber when an unsettling thought appeared in her mind. _Why didn't he simply kill me?_ It had only occurred to her now that she'd let all other thoughts leave her. He had her there, vulnerable and too weak to fight back. And yet, even though she was already dying anyway, he just stared at her with a look she hadn't seen in his eyes before. She'll never forget that look. It was a mix of sadness, confusion and, what surprised her the most, panic. If she didn't know better, she would say he didn't want to end this. _Is this even possible?_ The knot of anger in her stomach promptly loosened. The Arishok may have betrayed and hurt her, almost severed the string of her life. But she knew she wants to meet him again. If only to ask him why he didn't finish what he stared. Maybe she was right to trust him anyway? Perhaps he did feel it's wrong. _Do Qunari even have conscience?_ All those questions needed answers and the Arishok was the only person who could give them to Hawke. She wanted to find him, even if it meant traveling to Saheron or Par Vollen. But to what end? Hawke knew that if she ever laid her eyes on him again, she'd be doomed. _No, it's not what I want._ She told herself. _Is it though?_ The other part of her asked. Furious with herself she dug her nails into the blanket, and clenched her teeth, breathing deeply through her nose to compose herself. Oh, how she missed his deep, calm voice already..

Miriam had spent the rest of the sleepless night struggling with the conflicted emotions and thoughts but this entire time she knew one thing. If she is ever to meet the Arishok only to lose him again along with hope for something else she wanted she won't be able to keep this up. Even now she wished she never met any of her friends. Not when she thought death to be her only salvation from this suffering. She didn't want them to miss her when she finally decides to move on. It would've been so much easier if she had died that night, if the Arishok ha fulfilled his promise and ended her when he had the opportunity. Covering her face unable to believe in the surreal situation she'd found herself in and unsure if she should cry or laugh, she quietly snickered as more tears rolled down her temples.

"Damn you, you blasted Qunari."


	3. Asaaranda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After they barely escape with their lives, the two unlikely allies "work" together to fulfill the promises they made. In a moment of peace Isabela gives the Arishok his new name. Both her and the Qunari warlord find out new things about each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the third chapter. It's not nearly as good at the first one (at least in my opinion) but nevertheless, I hope it's still decent enough for you to read it. Enjoy.. I think XD

One day, not even whole, was very little time to plan the escape. Having a Qunari leader on her side turned out to be quite advantageous however. He knew his ship and his men like the back of his hand so getting past everyone and to a launch unnoticed wasn't the problem Isabela was especially worried about. It was the circumstances of their escape. She well understood the hurry. If they sailed too far from the Wounded Coast, there was no way they'd make it in a small boat with oars. They had to make a move as quickly as possible if they wanted to succeed but it seemed that the nature itself decided to act against them.

Merely after the noon, dark clouds coalesced on the horizon and charged towards them swiftly announcing the beginning of a thunderstorm. The torrential rain that came in the evening and greatly reduced vision made it easier to sneak away even with how big and definitely not sneaky the Arishok was. But all this along with the howling wind and huge waves was going to be a challenge. Isabela shielded her eyes from the rain and looked at the compass they'd taken from the ship to determine where they should go not to get lost. It's been several hours since they left the ship and she had absolutely no idea where they are. The way their boat was being tossed around like a husk of a nut wasn't making it easier to navigate as the needle refused to point to the north as it should. Isabela has beaten many storms in her life but she was always on a _ship._ And it was the Arishok who was trying to prevent the boat from being turned upside down. A bright lightning cracked through the clouded sky and was almost immediately followed by a roaring thunder. A wave collapsed onto the boat like a furious monster trying to crack it in half.

The Arishok hissed at the saltwater soaking through the bandages and intruding into his wounds, burning him like fire, and glanced up at Isabela holding onto the sides of the boat not to fall off. They were both sopping wet and tired but if he gave up they'd undoubtedly sink. Not that the chance that they sink wasn't already too big or his liking. Normally, he wouldn't care about Isabela dying as he still despised her but he'd done and lost too much for this cause to just let her at this point. All this would be for nothing. Another wave struck them, making him hate everything and everyone slightly more. Especially Isabela. If they reach the shore safely, she'd better be grateful. He attempted to voice his contempt for her but he couldn't hear himself through the downpour in spite of how loud he called out. He very much doubted she could either.

The sea was especially moody tonight. Ceaseless cascades of cold water pouring from the sky and slashing at them were only a mild inconvenience compared to the tides constantly tugging at the launch. Even though she was a seasoned sailor, Isabela started to feel sick from all the swaying and for a moment she really thought she was going to throw up. After a tide fell over them _again_ , she pulled her dripping hair away from her face, intending to communicate with the Arishok somehow with intention of snapping at him for picking tonight as the moment of their escape even though he can't have known about the storm coming, just in time to see a gargantuan wave rising up and charging towards them. He'd seen it too as he braced his hands against the sides of the boat. Isabela was prepared for another shower but the Maker seemed to direct the full extent of his wrath at them as the wave claimed their small boat to carry it for few short seconds only to toss it down like it weighted nothing. This was it. Isabela barely managed to catch a breath before she was completely engulfed by the raging ocean. In panic she reached for the overturned boat above her head to gain at least small chance of survival. They'd been on the run for a couple hours now, if another wave carried them like this they might still be able to reach the coast. Gasping for air, Isabela grabbed at the boat and looked around blinking.. to realise with a involuntary pang of worry that she was alone.

* * *

The wave came horribly fast. It took barely a moment for the Arishok to be pulled into the abyss of the ocean below him. Unable to breathe, he desperately tried to swim upwards. For the first time in his life, he realised that the heavy armor he wore along with his weapons became his undoing, dragging him down deeper into his doom. He didn't have time for unbuckling the belts to cast his shoulder pads away nor did he wished to lose his weapons. They were parts of him after all, the only things he retained from his past life, even the nature itself won't force him to part with them forever. No one will. He had little time to take a breath before the boat flipped over so there wasn't a lot for him to spare. But he didn't become the Arishok by accident. He was after all the strongest and the most endurable of all warriors. He wasn't going to die. Not like this. Calling upon every second of his training he strained against the merciless force of gravity with all the strength he could muster. His head burst through the surface but before he could gasp another wave crashed down onto him pulling him even deeper. It was as though the nature tried its best to keep his head under at all costs. His heart hastened as he fought his way up through the water constricting around him, pulling him down like a ferocious beast dragging its struggling prey into its lair. If the Qunari believed in any gods, he'd say he was being punished for releasing the thief of the sacred relic.

He emerged once more but the ocean swallowed him again and this time the water rushed into his mouth and into his lungs. Black spots began to gather in the corners of his vision, gradually encasing his mind in darkness as he kept trying to reach the surface with the last bits of his waning strength and feeling his senses leave him. He was drowning. He couldn't keep this up, he realised when numbness gripped his limbs to stop him from flailing. Even the searing pain began to subside as his body started to sink when he finally gave into the embrace of the cruel sea.

Looking about, searching for any signs of the Arishok's presence, Isabela called out but the storm raged way to loud for her to be heard. She couldn't see him anywhere. Her rising dismay caused her heart to beat so rapidly that it might seem it was about to explode. _Damn it, where is he?_ She begged the Maker to tell her that the Arishok can swim at all. With all that armor on he'd sink like a rock. Out if the corner of her eye she spotted a clawed hand reaching out from underneath the water, followed by the Arishok's head. But he didn't remain in sight for long as a huge tide came down screaming onto him and pushed him back under. An ability to swim doesn't help much when the sea is trying to end you.

" _Fuck!_ "

Isabela cursed loudly as the thunder clapped above her head. She went too far with all this, she can't lose him now. But she knew the moment she lets go of the boat she might never find it again and drown along with him. In spite of all the odds stacked against her, she decided to take the risk. Waiting for the right moment she took a huge gulp of air and dove into the dark waters to search for the Qunari. And there he was, quickly sinking, the last bubbles of air escaping his opened mouth, eyes shut. A cold knot of panic formed in her stomach as she realised she doesn't have much time left. Following him into the depths she reached for the leather straps on his chest and pulled. Andraste's grace, he was _heavy._ Underwater everything seems lighter than it truly is but still. Isabela moved behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest instead to get a good hold on him. Pulling him out from the water was a trivial matter. Getting to the shore on time was a whole other story. Just as she was expecting, when she finally reached the surface, fighting to keep both hers and his head above the water she had lost the sight of the boat. She looked for it with desperation shining in her eyes, holding the unconscious Arishok against her chest and trying not to skewer herself on his horns. It was gone as was her hope. A cascade of water pulled them both under for a moment but Isabela wasn't the one to give up easily. She came back up gasping, still looking for the boat or… anything that would help at this point. The fate proved to her to have a knack for cruel jokes and liking to toy with its victims more than once. When a wave pushed her again, through the downpour she'd seen a shadow of the nearby land slightly to her left. Words cannot describe the relief she experienced as she swam towards it, carried by the waves. Funny, merely seconds ago the same waves were trying to kill her and now they seemed like trusted friends nudging her, helping her reach her destination.

Her toes grazed against the sand as the final tide harshly tossed both of them onto the beach. Isabela gasped and coughed, barely able to keep herself on her hands and knees. She was still shaking from how close it was. The rain didn't stop hacking at her back as she finally lifted her head to look at her Qunari companion. He was lying there on his back absolutely still, facing away. Panic once again. Isabela crawled towards him and collapsed onto his chest, looking for any signs of life within. Her heart skipped. He wasn't breathing and even if his own heart was beating, it was too faint for her to hear it.

"No, no, _damn it!_ "

Isabela cried and smacked her hand against the ashen grey skin on his shoulder. After what she did to save him from drowning he can't just _die_ . She really hated the idea but she had no other choice. Or maybe she did? Isabela she sat up and looked at the familiar rocks of the Wounded Coast. A shiver ran the length of her spine. Perhaps he _can_ die? She was free, just as she wanted. She didn't need the Arishok anymore, she could just as well look for Hawke and ask _her_ for help with Castillon. Her friend would certainly lend a hand. Isabela had admitted from the very beginning that the Arishok would only be an inconvenience for her and she'd rather not have him stick around. It would be so easy to just stand up and walk away. It would be. But.. Looking down at the former Qunari warlord splayed out on the sand, motionless and vulnerable made her stomach flip. The odd sensation had nothing to do with swallowing a lot of water back then. Without his telltale scowl he looked so peaceful so.. calm and quiet. One might have thought he was merely sleeping. Isabela hesitated. A year ago she wouldn't have had a problem with leaving him here to die. But her friendship with Hawke has changed her. The Arishok released her only because of Hawke, even though it had cost him everything. She owes her so much.. Miriam would never forgive her if she left now.

"Damn you, Hawke!"

She hissed at her absent friend for making her soft and clasped her hands together to bring them down onto the Arishok's chest. If she was going to save him, she had to hurry. She continued the rhythmic thumping but she may have as well tried to punch through a brick wall with how hard his muscles were. There was no reaction from him whatsoever no matter how much she tried. A horrible thought stung the back of her head as she realised what she was going to have to do.

"Come on, big guy! Don't make me do that!"

He still didn't stir. The lack of answer spoke volumes about that his soon-to-be corpse doesn't give a shit if she feels uncomfortable by doing what was necessary to keep him from becoming a corpse. Isabela groaned in frustration as she attempted to turn his face up. The horns weren't exactly helping with how big the damned things were, she had to literally jam them into the damp sand.

"Fine! If you insist."

She pinched his nose and opened his mouth with her other hand, leaning in with an unpleasant flutter in her gut. No one can know what had transpired here. _Ever._ Varric is never going to get off of her should he find out. He'd probably write a romantic novel about this one, the little twat. The dwarf was certainly easy to like but he was full of shit and such teasing wasn't something above him. Isabela parted her lips and gave her breath to the dying Qunari, feeling a pang of fear in her chest as she heard the water bubbling inside of him. This sound meant nothing good. She breathed the life giving air into him again, this time receiving the desired result. His body lurched up as he coughed and choked on the water still in his lungs. _Thank the Maker.._ Relieved, Isabela turned the Arishok and patted him on his back to aid him as he vomited the saltwater onto the sand and finally sucked in a ragged breath.

"That's it. Keep breathing and it'll be alright."

The whole process left an unpleasant aftertaste in her mouth (or maybe she was just imagining things and it was the salt, nothing more) but, as surprised as she was, she found it worth it. There was always this nice feeling of accomplishment whenever she did something right and this time was no different. This was certainly the right choice. Though, she'd rather put that behind and never speak of this to anyone. Her happiness however, was a little short lived as the Arishok didn't stay awake for long and as soon as he could breathe on his own he collapsed face first into the sand. Not that she didn't expect that, he nearly drowned back there.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

An exasperated sigh left her lips as she realised she's either going to stay here in the pouring rain or drag him towards some dank cave where they can wait out the storm. After checking if he is still breathing without issues, Isabela stood on her shaking legs, looked over her equipment for any missing parts (everything was thankfully on place) and looked around to see which part of the Wounded Coast they landed on. Even in the complete darkness she recognised the place. There was a small cavern not far from here. She knelt down and rolled the Arishok onto his back to try and shake him awake.

"Don't pass out just yet, you can do that once we find a safe place."

Receiving no reaction she grit her teeth and landed a hefty slap on his face. Her hand instantly went numb from the strike and she couldn't help but wonder if it hurt her more than it did him. But it surprisingly worked out well. His golden eyes lolled open and he coughed up more of the water burning inside of him as Isabela pulled him to a sitting position. His breath was ragged and heavy but at least he was breathing at all. Isabela tugged on his arm to pull him upright and go find that cave. It was astonishing how compliant he was. In truth she expected _him_ to drag _her_ around like that and not the opposite. All the air escaped from her as the Arishok heavily leaned on her nearly causing her to buckle underneath his weight. It felt as though he weighed at least five hundred pounds but the water that soaked into any piece of cloth he had on was definitely adding to it and with how exhausted Isabela was she was eager and likely to exaggerate.

The Arishok felt like he's just come back from the dead. He was almost sure he was _actually_ dead. This cursed storm nearly killed both him and Isabela. The moment his lungs were forcefully filled with air again, he felt the burning pain in his chest and in one mighty heave his body rejected the water preventing him from taking a proper breath. He could feel Isabela's tiny hands gripping his shoulders as he fought for every gulp of blessed oxygen. Remarkable that she stayed with him up to this moment. He took it for granted that the thief will leave him the first chance she gets and this was certainly such a chance. Nothing's lost yet, she can still escape or slit his throat while he sleeps though there was little reason for her to do so after she'd pulled him out of the cold clutches of death. Not to lie, he was grateful. He didn't want to die, at least not before he met with Hawke. The stare of hurt she gave him was still buried deep in his mind. He'd received many such stares in his life but it was hers which he remembered the most clearly. He'd failed her trust. He may deny it all he wants but this doesn't change the fact that she thought him special. Nor that he did her. He'd made his choice and abandoned everything he was and everything he knew specifically for her. He will not die before he sets things right between them. This was exactly why bonds like this are banned in the Qun. They can lead a person into doing a lot of foolish and unthinkable things that they're going to regret after it's much too late for remorse.

Despite his lack of trust for Isabela, he allowed her to take the lead for now. He wasn't quite sure why a certain area on his cheek tingles so much but he was in no shape to wonder about it now. It's been a long time since he couldn't stand on his own, the merciless sea took sapped him of all his strength and left him feeling as though an ataashi crushed him in its jaws. Even though the water was no longer inside him the burning didn't cease. He barely noticed when he the stopped feeling the rain on his back and the sounds of the thunderstorm slowly grew more distant. Isabela settled him on a rocky ground. He saw her through the haze as she looked around what apparently was a cave. Her clothes were thoroughly soaked and sticking to her dark skin, her black hair dripping from the constant rain they'd been subjected to. It didn't came as a surprise to see how tired she looked. Her entire body was shaking, teeth chattering. Sometimes he forgets that humans are far more vulnerable to pretty much everything than Qunari are. And yet she fared much better than he did.

The whole night the Arishok spent drifting in and out of consciousness as Isabela attempted to get a fire going to dry her clothes or at least warm herself up a little. Maybe it was just the water and exhaustion but she felt horribly cold. Unfortunately, starting a fire with nothing but wet twigs and leaves was borderline with a miracle. After two hours of futile attempts and cursing everything in the universe Isabela finally chucked the flint at a wall and gave up. She walked over to the entrance of the cave and cupped her hands together to gather some rainwater spilling from the rocks to drink. Her throat hoarse from all this salt and coughing was incredibly thankful. It was a shame that the idea of starting a fire didn't work. She would've been able to have some sleep at least but with how damn cold it was tonight she didn't expect to be able to fully rest. The night was a torture, Isabela spent it in a corner, hugging her knees to her chest and shivering, listening to the raging storm outside. From time to time she'd look down at the Arishok - if she could still call him that - to see him either asleep or or half conscious and muttering something to himself like a madman in fever. Once she got a little closer she could make out the foreign words of what sounded like a chant or prayer.

"Shok ebasit hissra.. Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun.. Maraas shokra.. Anaan... esaam Qun.."

It was strange to listen to him repeat this over and over again as she was quite certain that Qunari don't speak prayers to anything or anyone. But hearing the Arishok recite this with his now hoarse and shaking voice, even without the knowledge as to its meaning, gave her the impression that he may actually be.. afraid. The great warlord who was always ever so confident and calm was afraid. Strange. What could he fear? _Dying_ . Her mind pointed out. It could be possible after what he's just gone through. Perhaps he finds solace in those lines. It felt odd to see him, the fearless warrior and brilliant strategist, leader of the entire Qunari army, weak and barely even aware of anything happening around him. Perhaps he did have a fever after all? More than slightly worried for safety of her appendage, Isabela reached out to lay her hand across the Arishok's forehead.. Aaannd.. she had no idea what to make out of that. He jerked at her touch but remained otherwise unfazed, still whispering the same lines. To her icy cold hand his head was like a hot oven but if he really was feverish, she couldn't tell. If she wasn't afraid about being killed she'd probably keep as close to the only source of warmth nearby as possible. _Nah, it feels way too weird.._ She'd rather freeze to death. Unsure of what she should do and unable to sleep, Isabela kept watch throughout the night, making sure no hostile individual surprises them in this moment of vulnerability.

* * *

The storm passed with the first light of the dawn, though the clouds still remained a thick grey coating in the sky. Isabela woke up from a slumber that came to her merely an hour ago. Her eyes were still heavy and she wouldn't be surprised if she saw the lack of sleep imprinted on her face. Seeing the Arishok standing with his back turned to her and looking out into the distance with his left hand resting on a wall was no small surprise to her, considering the state he was in last night. He stood there bare chested, his armor and weapons having been discarded where he was lying and most of the crimson warpaint that was decorating his skin has been washed away by the seawater. And he stared. _What is he thinking about, I wonder?_ She intended to walk up to him quietly and just take a look at his face to try and determine his current mood. She wanted to know if he is willing to talk as they had to make up a further plan. They needed to know what to do next. Though, it didn't work the way she wanted it to as her still wet boots squished under her feet. _Blasted._ The Arishok didn't make any move suggesting that he heard it or cared to acknowledge her. Until he released a deep sigh and spoke.

"I'm surprised that you stayed."

It baffled him to no end that Isabela was still with him. She could've left him for dead either at sea or on the shore, escaped while he was resting.. but she didn't. Few hours ago he thought she should be thanking him for setting her free but in the end it was him who should be thanking her for dragging him out from the danger. To him she was.. a _puzzling_ individual to put lightly. Isabela scoffed at him with a smirk as she took place next to him to look out at the still uneasy sea.

"I blame Hawke for this. She taught me to keep my promises."

He hummed thoughtfully but didn't say anything afterwards. This is nothing Hawke should be blamed for, not in his opinion at least. Isabela should be grateful for it in fact. He stared at the misty horizon with a melancholic look on his face. He had a short while for himself to consider his current position. The moment he gave Isabela the key to her shackles he had cast away everything he knew and everything he used to be. His authority, the Qun.. the very definition of his being. For the first time he felt truly lost. The Qun was the only way of life he'd ever known since he was but an imekari. Without it he felt.. hollow for a lack of better term. _Where am I supposed to go? What should I do now?_ He wondered. The only person who might welcome him was Hawke and even that he wasn't so certain about. She could still spite him for what happened in Kirkwall and if that's the case, there is nothing he can do to feel right again. Until the end he will be disgraced and lacking the purpose he saw so clearly in his path before. How do Tal-Vashoth cope with such feeling of loneliness and misdirection? _Get used to most likely.._ His stomach twisted as Isabela hopelessly tried to resume the conversation.

"Arishok, we need-"

She cut off as she noticed his fists clench and the muscles of his back tense at at her words. He gave her the most piercing and chilling look he was capable of as he growled at her like a rabid dog. It was clearly a warning.

"Do _not_ call me that. I have no right to this title anymore."

"Well, pardon me then. How am I to address you?"

To be perfectly honest, he had no idea. He was just a nobody in the eyes of his former brethren. Raas. He never had a true name as he found it useless as did everyone around him. He was called many things by his people over the years. He barely remembered all of them or their proper order after such a long time. Karashok. Ashaad. Sten. Karasten.. and finally the Arishok. Now he was none of them. He eyed Isabela as she waited for his response but he had none for her. He was fine with whatever word she chooses to refer to him with as long as she doesn't give him any human name.

"Call me what you like. It doesn't matter."

Isabela sighed with resignation. She'd never named a Qunari before. When he said "what you like" she had to try really hard not to call him something stupid just to mess with him because he was clearly not in the mood for any jokes. She had to remain serious if she wanted to avoid injuries. Speaking of injuries, she was actually impressed that he was putting up with her shenanigans for so long without it leading to her horrific and indescribable dismemberment. Names sometimes tend to describe people carrying them. Perhaps she should go in this direction?

"Hmm, let me think. Maybe some word from your language? How would you spell 'calm', for instance?"

The former Qunari raised his eyebrow at her but he had to admit that her thinking wasn't that awful. Why she decided to use this particular word was beyond him however.

" ' **Taashath** '."

He answered. Isabela smiled and crossed her arms, content with the result.

"There we go. It doesn't sound that bad to me. May I call you that?"

"Na'thek. You may."

He shrugged. It will take some getting used to but he really couldn't care less.

"So, Ar-.. Excuse me, _Taashath._ I'd like to discuss our next move."

"You say that like you need my permission."

Isabela rolled her eyes at the snarky remark and quietly grumbled under her breath. She gets it that he's upset, he's had a bad day and nearly died in the process, but he doesn't have to try to pass his foul mood onto her. Perhaps she should've thought about calling him "sarcastic" instead.

"We need to get to Kirkwall and somehow-"

"This is where you can stop."

Taashath interrupted her in mid sentence, ignoring her furious look. He finally turned to face her with his arms folded over his massive chest. The way she started didn't appeal to him at all.

"You wish to lead me into the city which I assaulted not even a day ago. I don't know if you're foolish or simply naive to forget that they all desire my death."

When he put it like that, it really seemed like a poor idea on her part. It was true, Kirkwallers are certainly out for his blood after his last visit there. If he is seen anywhere in the city it's going to end badly for both of them. This certainly complicated things.

"Right.. I'll think of a way to get you there but let's move on for now."

He scowled down at her but allowed her to continue this time.

"I'll need to lure Castillon to Kirkwall. It won't be difficult, he will find out about my 'failed mission' soon enough."

"Parshaara. Get to the point."

Taashath sneered irritated. One thing he disliked about all bas was the unnecessary prolonging of any conversation. Pointless prattling irked him to no end every single time. Isabela frowned at him again and silently mocked him, clearly sick of him. This was going to get interesting in every sense if they were to work together. So far it wasn't going well..

"Okay, fine! I'm planning to give myself up to his men and let them lead me to him. And that's where you come in."

The Qunari scratched his chin with his index finger and furrowed his eyebrows.

"So basically you want me to follow you and then slaughter everyone."

"Uhh, pretty much.."

Isabela cringed slightly at the way he said it but that's more or less what she needed him to do. The mercenaries of the Antivan merchant are only going to be nuisance if they don't remove them from the scene.

"Huh. Curious.."

"And then when Castillon shows up we either scare the shit out of him or just crack his skull open."

A quiet murmur, hard to determine whether approving or criticising, rumbled in Taashath's chest as he kept rubbing his chin. Isabela bit her lower lip and waited.

"Sometimes the simplest solutions are the best.."

This answer was all she needed to hear to know that there should be no further impediments. It wasn't going to be easy but it _could_ work. Although the basics of the plan were ready, the only problem remained and it was getting the seven feet tall number one most wanted Qunari into Kirkwall without causing too much commotion or other difficulties. This she had no idea how to do. Every part of her idea still needed a lot of work but Taashath's identity made them completely stuck. She doubted that the citizens have already forgotten his face..

* * *

"Why do you insist on trailing after me like you're my god damned tail?"

Isabela turned to fully armed Taashath with a look of disdain on her face. He'd followed her from their little "hideout" all the way along the shore. His blatant answer only intensified her frustration.

"I do not trust you."

"Even when I try to find us something to _eat?_ "

"Yes."

Unable to help herself, Isabela laughed and looked back at the Qunari with a mix of rage and amusement and patted a small makeshift satchel on her hip where she'd gathered some of the small edible creatures the Wounded Coast had to offer. After a storm there was quite a lot of them on the beach.

"What, you think I might try to kill you with a crab or an oyster?"

His eyes narrowed and he fell silent at the insinuation. This was an entirely pointless question. He'd already given her an answer to the first one and he wasn't about to engage in conversation when she said something this foolish. He didn't want to let her provoke him so he remained quiet. Isabela shook her head in annoyance and continued on her way, picking up what she could find. _Prick._ She thought. It's been two days and she was already sick of his company. The idea that they could efficiently work together longer than few hours was a bit farfetched, considering that they still hated each other. _What does Hawke see in this faggot?_ Maybe one day they'll learn to trust one another. Maybe not. The time will show.

Taashath watched Isabela as she resumed her task deciding to ignore him. A slight sneer crept up onto his face. This "alliance" was one of the worst things that happened to him right after accepting it in the first place. The moment an opportunity and reason present themselves, he will cut any ties with the thief and forget they'd ever met. It wasn't even her personality that drove him nuts but.. exactly, what? The fact that it was the theft of the relic that indirectly got him into this situation made him spite her all that more. Foolish basra. If she had never laid her hands on the Tome, he would've been back in Par Vollen, living exactly the the way he used to and still being the Arishok. And probably never have met Hawke. His heart squeezed painfully at the thought. Again with all the feelings.. _Vashedan. Why does she bother me so?_ It was too late to turn back now. He can't imagine what tortures he would be subjected to if the Ben-Hassrath ever found him after his betrayal. In the best scenario he'd be reeducated, wiped clean and given one last chance at life under the Qun as an entirely new person. Even though it might not seem so bad to some, he had to admit that he was terrified of the possibility of losing himself this way. That's why he'll never set his foot on Par Vollen again no matter how much he missed it.. He breathed in the salty air through his nose as the soft wind tugged on his hair to drive off the painful memories of his home. And then his eyes opened wider, his ears rose up ever so slightly at a strange smell in the air. It wasn't Isabela, he'd gotten used to the way she smelled hours ago. No, this was a familiar, metallic smell. It was faint but undeniably present. He knew it well. And in moments like this it was never a good sign.

Isabela nearly jumped out of her boots at the sound of a blade being unsheathed right behind her. Her mind momentarily assumed the worst and she whipped around to defend herself if necessary. She saw Taashath looking somewhere to his right and sniffing, his hand clutching at the hilt of his enormous sword. It was a relief, not going to lie, that whatever has set him on edge wasn't her. Isabela visibly deflated when he did not advance to attack her. _Why would he in the first place, you paranoid idiot?_ She chuckled to herself but the way his eyes were darting around made her uneasy all over again.

"What. Are you _doing_?"

He sniffed once more before he simply stated

"Blood."

 _Oh joy._ She thought as she started to sniff as well but there was nothing aside from the salt that she could smell. Damn the Qunari and their heightened senses.. Taashath didn't wait for her as he followed the scent like a predator tracking its prey. It wasn't easy to keep up with his pace, his legs were twice the length of hers and for a moment she had to jog not to lose sight of him. Fortunately, he didn't go far before he slowed down to crouch behind a large rock. Now she could smell it too. Simultaneously, they peered out from their hiding spot.. and the sight gave them both chills.

What they'd found was a camp. At some point in past at least. Everything was strewn around in a total disorder and between the torn sacks and shattered crates were bodies. A lot of them. And not just any bodies. Qunari. Taashath was well aware that they were most likely Tal-Vashoth but what he saw made his throat tighten. It was a massacre. The fallen Kossith have all been injured in various ways. Some had arrows protruding from their backs or chests, some were missing their heads. Others were covered in stab wounds right next to those left with one or more of their limbs severed and abandoned to bleed out. He and Isabela exchanged looks.

"What- what happened here?"

She stuttered. Isabela had seen her fair share of bloodshed but this was a whole new level of brutality. She asked but in fact she didn't need clarification. After the invasion on Kirkwall, the authorities must've sent the remaining soldiers here to deal with any remaining oxmen to guarantee safety from them. Tal-Vashoth were mostly raiders and bandits but seeing this made her want to throw up. Taashath didn't say anything. He stared grimly at the slaughtered rebels without any hint of an expression. She couldn't say whether he was saddened, angered or simply indifferent. He just.. stared..

"Taashath.."

She started but was interrupted by a gurgle from somewhere in the camp. They both grasped their weapons ready to defend themselves, and carefully followed the sound. What they'd seen could break the toughest hearts. It was one of the Qunari mages - a Saarebas - if she remembered correctly. Barely sitting upright against a stone and wheezing he looked at the intruders, his right hand placed over his chest covered in dried blood where three arrows were stuck. Every wound a grave one but none reaching his heart to give him a quick and merciful end. Shards of splintered shin bone were sticking out from his broken leg. Isabela thought the way Qunari treat their mages inhumane but _this_ was just cruel. As she looked at the mage she noticed how small in comparison to Taashath he was. He can't have been older that fourteen. It was still just a kid. The Saarebas gurgled again and reached out towards them with his trembling hand in a silent plea as the chains sang their sorrowful song and electricity danced between his fingertips. His golden mask was mostly obscuring his face but not enough to hide the expression of pain and despair as blood poured out from his stitched lips and onto the harness around his neck. His skin was grey just like Taashath's but in an unhealthy, pallid way. Isabela looked up at Taashath as the Saarebas wheezed again. His neutral expression has turned to sadness but his hands rolled into fists in clear anger. No one deserved such fate. Not even a Saarebas. Not even a fiend.. He walked over to the wounded Tal-Vashoth, an outcast just like him now, and crouched by his side. There was death in his eyes.

"He must've been in agony for hours now.."

Taashath quietly said, not failing to notice the irony of this. Bas call the Qunari monsters and heartless murderers while they themselves commit such atrocities. It only occurred to him now how young the mage was. Not even past his adulthood. He's still an imekari. Taashath couldn't help but think bitterly _Do bas slaughter_ their _young as well?_ Saarebas coughed up blood and gripped his arm as though seeking comfort in his last moments. The former Qunari warlord jerked in surprise but didn't pull away. In spite of everything he believed before, Saarebas' touch didn't leave him feeling sullied or curse him with demons' magic. Whenever in control of his power, the Saarebas was just Kossith like any other. An extremely dangerous one but still. He didn't know the mage and yet there was trust in this grasp. Strange, however, he wasn't about to deny an imekari his last comfort. Taashath was no tamassran but it will have to do as the Saarebas didn't seem to care. He was just glad to have someone to cling to as he goes.

Isabela walked over to them. Even she felt it's not right to leave the Kossith here like that. She took her dagger by its blade and held the hilt out to Taashath. They all knew what must be done. The boy was beyond saving. Without the slightest hint of hesitation in his movement, Taashath took the dagger and pressed it against Saarebas' neck. A weak, grateful smile traced mage's sewn mouth. He gave a nod, fighting to keep his eyes open to face his end. With one clean cut Taashath slit the mage's throat and lowered him to the ground so that he would bleed out more quickly to spare him more pain. The Saarebas placed his hand on his chest in a gesture of gratitude as his strength left him along with his vital essence spilling from opened arteries. Both Taashath and Isabela watched the tiny remnants of life drain from mage's eyes as he released his final breath in relief and his hand went slack of Taashath's forearm.

"Panahedan, young one."

"Maker.."

Isabela sighed as Taashath without another word pressed the dagger back into her hands and started to walk away. This was the second act of mercy she'd witnessed from him. It was a good sign, she supposed. Looking back at the deceased Saarebas she knew how much it took. The Arishok part of him hated Tal-Vashoth like no one else and yet he granted this one a swift death to release him from suffering. _He isn't all that bad if you get to know him. I'm starting to understand why Hawke respected him so.._ She smiled to herself grimly, still staring down at the young Saarebas. At his wounds, blood pooling around his head, his attire, his mask. _Mask._ She nearly gasped at her genius. Of course!

"Hey, big guy! I think I know exactly how to smuggle you into Kirkwall!"


	4. Plans ruined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations for visiting Kirkwall continue, as unpleasant as they are. Hawke still feels down in the dumps and slowly recovers, having no idea about the arrival of her lost friends who are (more or less successfully) trying to keep low profile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another one. Phew, this one took everything out of me. I need a break.  
> No, seriously though, my dad's going to strangle me if I fail my test XD

"Don't move."

Isabela snapped as Taashath turned to see what she was doing when he felt a sharp tug in his hair. After their unfortunate "bath" it was extremely hard to get the knots and all the salt out of his mane but she insisted on making him a different hairstyle. "This alone can change the look." She told him. When she presented him with her idea as to concealing his identity, he honestly thought she was joking. He was definitely not going to walk around Kirkwall pretending to be a Saarebas. If this wasn't the worst idea she'd ever had, he dreaded to see one. Though, as much as he found it a horrible plan, he didn't have anything better to suggest. _If I die there, it's going to be her fault._ Eventually, he conceded. If anything, Isabela had a talent of convincing people. Otherwise, he wouldn't be here. It was worth a shot, even if it meant ridiculing himself in front of the basra. Looking at the bright side of this, if it works, they won't know it was him. For now he allowed Isabela to proceed as long as she doesn't insist on cutting his horns off. Needless to say that he hated having Isabela out of his sight where she can just stab him in the back but if it meant that he will be able to walk through this blasted city unrecognised, he decided to take the chance. But he didn't account for the nearly _three hours_ of torture Isabela had provided him with when she got her hands on a comb she'd stolen from one of the raiders' camps. In his time as a soldier, he'd been injured countless times. Impaled, slashed, bruised, broken and and burned more often than he cared to admit. But _this_ was a _nightmare._ He's going to feel it for days. The pirate unbraided his hair and after finishing brushing it, what unnerved him, she pulled out a dagger.

"Stop flinching, I just want to shorten it by few inches."

"This is unnecessary."

He growled and waved his hand to bat the offending blade from her hand. The moment a sound of metal hitting the stone rung out he thought the argument over but Isabela in her irritation surprised him by grabbing at his horns and pulling his head back. The gall of some humans is remarkable. Stunned, he glared at the angry face of Isabela upside down above him.

"Just let me do my thing and stop being a huge baby! It's just a haircut."

"No."

"Andraste's knickers, sit still or I'm going to tie you up!"

Just for a little second he allowed himself for a taunting smirk, forgetting about his exposed throat that Isabela could easily attack if she wanted to. If she succeeded, that would be a sight to behold.

"I'd like to see you try."

Cursing loudly Isabela shoved his head forward and kicked the dagger at a nearby cave wall. The way he acted was infuriating. This was one of the reasons she didn't like Kossith. Stubborn as a mule and too big and strong for her to assert dominance when needed. _They_ are the dominant ones every time and it doesn't matter who tries to command them. If you're a human trying to give orders to them, well good luck. She pulled her own hair back and inhaled deeply to compose herself. _I swear he's going to drive me mad.._ After few breaths she was ready to resume her task.

"Fine! I won't cut it, just hold still for few damned minutes!"

Taashath chucked to himself. _Anaan._ He thought with satisfaction. He allowed her a lot already, she shouldn't step over the boundaries of his tolerance and he was eager to remind her of it. Even though it's been not even a whole week, he was slowly starting to feel more comfortable in her presence. Gradually, he was starting to believe that she wouldn't betray him after all. Day after day they'd been traveling around the Wounded Coast and the nearby forests. They'd hunt together and to be perfectly honest, everything they did relied on mutual trust. Without it they would never get anything done. Once he caught himself feeling _glad_ to have her at his side. It wasn't the same thing when Hawke was visiting him and talking about nonsense to lift his mind off of the matters of fanatics trying to make his and his soldiers lives miserable, but it was pretty close. He was quietly thinking about how to describe it. _Maybe this is what bas call "friendship"? The trust, the respect.._ And to his surprise even the bickering. He'd seen Hawke many times as she was talking with her companions, quite often calling one or other an "ass" for something they said but laughing with them afterwards. He nearly snorted at the possibility. The Arishok befriending the thief of sacred relic.. Ridiculous to say the least. Not impossible it seems, but still ridiculous. A soft hiss escaped him when she tugged at his hair one last time before she started rebraiding it. _This had better be worth it.._ He mused with a pained wince. It took two more hours to gather all the small braids and pull them up into a ponytail. Isabela tied all with a hair band and left two of them loose on each side of his face.

"There."

The evident hint of smugness in her voice was hard to miss as she finally finished her work and moved to his front.

"Now try the mask on."

Taashath stared at the golden mask in her hand and slowly took it from her to study it more closely. Who would've thought it would come to this. Him, the once proud member and the head of the Antaam, cowering around the filthy streets of this chaotic, festering city in the guise of those he once thought demons incarnate. _Oh, how far the mighty have fallen.._ He sighed and adjusted the part of his new attire, fastening the leather straps around his horns but not before removing all the ornaments from them. There was no need for them after all. He kept one earring though, following Isabela's advice as she said it "suited him", whatever she meant by that. And besides, every even such small part of his past self kept meant a lot to him. The Qunari, his brethren, might've thought him a sentimental fool for it but he wasn't with them anymore. It was hard to admit but he found it oddly pleasant to be allowed much more than he used to without fearing the Ben-Hassrath constantly breathing down his neck. Sometimes this sense of freedom frightened him. The world was so vast and opened but at the times he felt like he could do anything he wished to. It was almost intoxicating. Strange..

After a dark red scarf was wrapped around his neck instead of a heavy harness all Saarebas wore, Isabela stepped back to admire her masterpiece. The chains were utterly unnecessary. Taashath wasn't her slave, he was supposed to act as a companion who aided her in her escape. It wasn't far from the truth, and any questions about him could be easily either answered or dismissed. Lack of the thread on his lips? Isabela had removed it for him. The missing chains? He's no longer a prisoner to be dragged about like a dog on a leash and he discarded them. The only problem was the significant lack of magic in him. She could probably bluff about how he'd found a way to cut himself off from the Fade and abandon his power. No one in Kirkwall knew about the Qunari enough (especially about mages) to call out on her bullshit. Not even Hawke. Or she might as well just say she has no idea and he cannot tell her.

In front of her stood an entirely different person. The loose braids were outlining his already rigid features and the mask covered the most of his face. The lack of his iconic armor that uncovered numerous scars littering his body and the light, scarlet cloth draped over his shoulders also made him look much shorter than he truly was. Had she not known what lies hidden behind this mask, she would've never guessed it right. The horns were giving him out a little but it's not like she could do much about it. Removal of them would probably be as painful as breaking an arm and, what's the most important, _permanent._ The last thing Isabela aimed for was earning more of his ire. Besides, all Qunari have horns, sometimes even just as big as his. All wounds he'd received few days ago were already nearly half healed. It's astonishing how fast the Kossith bodies are able to regenerate. All in all, he looked well. Isabela could imagine how many hateful stares he's going to attract just by being who he is but the chance of them being caught and executed drastically decreased. He noticed that she's staring just when he was adjusting a belt on his chest. Picking up his sword, a weapon lighter than his waraxe, he loudly cleared his throat, ripping her out of her thoughts.

"What? It's just.. It turned out better than I expected."

She admitted with surprise ringing in her voice. It turned out almost too well. The only thing she didn't foresee, was that the mask would make him even more difficult to read. She couldn't even fully see his eyes which were telling a lot to her before. Taashath was never a man of many words. And now he fell quiet. A little too quiet for her liking. He looked down at her through the vizier in his mask and slightly tilted his head when she looked to the side and anxiously scratched her wrist. Bas are strange..

"You don't have to play mute just yet, you know."

She prompted. The way he stared at her in utter silence was kind of unnerving.. Isabela preferred people who actually talk to her. Qunari are definitely not of those people from what she had noticed.

"Nothing remains to be said."

He answered and sheathed his blade. Even if the Ariqun and Arigena together were trying to force him, he'd never go to Kirkwall defenseless. Taashath watched Isabela as she sat down and began to brush her own tangled hair with a very similar expression he'd made before. It was time for her share of pain and he wasn't denying the wicked joy he felt thinking that she was about to find out how horrible these few hours were for him. Leaving her to it, he walked out of the cave and searched for some puddle he could use as a mirror. It wasn't difficult as it has been raining just the other day. With more than slight surprise and curiosity, Taashath studied the reflection staring back at him from the surface of the shallow water. It really wasn't him. Isabela remained true to her word and did an amazingly good job at giving him a new appearance. Perhaps her idea isn't so bad after all.. He looked up at the horizon and the setting sun that cast an amber light across the shore, slowly turning to deep violet further towards the north where the first star shimmered shyly in the sky. Whether Isabela's plan succeeds or fails, the tomorrow will show.

* * *

After another three days spent in bed, slowly recovering from wounds and bruises, Hawke was finally allowed to stand up and walk around with crutches, not to strain her leg. Not that she complained about being bedridden, considering the circumstances and all the praises sang to her by Kirkwallers but she was _dying of boredom_. It was nice to be visited by all her friends and some people who came to her carrying gifts of gratitude for saving Kirkwall from the Qunari attack, wishing her quick recovery. Very little was needed to be said for her to understand it was partially Varric's doing. It's super rare for things like that not to be his doing to be honest. And she just couldn't be mad at him. It was virtually impossible. He was too much of a great friend for her to ever be cross with him. Miriam enjoyed the attention and comforting words but she itched to finally get out. She isn't a woman who can be kept down for too long. Still awfully sore, she was moving with speed of a snail sliding across floor peppered with salt however. It was hard to get used to walking around again. Most of her time she was spending with Anders. Just as her mother said, after two days of overuse of his magic he was utterly spent. He was lying on the coach in the main hall like a wet rag, with three blankets tucked up to his chin as he uneasily tossed and turned in feverish sleep as it didn't seem like the best idea to move him to Darktown in that condition. Though according to what Merril said, it wasn't nearly as bad as initially. He had moments of full consciousness and the first time he'd seen Hawke on her own feet he smiled, telling few words about how glad he is, and promptly passed out again. Uninterrupted and with good care of Merril and Leandra, he'll be back up in no time however.

Even though everyone around Hawke were happy that she'd survived the grave injuries, she only wore a cheerful mask. The dreams kept bothering her, there was no way for her to run away from the memories of that night. The cursed Qunari was the only thing on her mind, keeping her awake at night and crying silently into her pillows. During a day she seemed much more testy and weepy than she used to before the Qunari even arrived at Kirkwall. There were moments when Hawke had no idea what else to talk about and simply remained silent. She didn't want to open the wounds that haven't healed yet by talking about Isabela or the Arishok. It didn't go unnoticed by her family and friends. Varric teased her few times that she speaks even less than Sandal these days. Outwardly, he was poking fun at her but she could see that he was worried. Her mother was trying to make her feel better, sometimes making her tea for calming nerves but it helped only for a short while. No one was blind enough not to see that her fight with the Arishok and Isabela's loss influenced Miriam in some strange way. Thankfully, they didn't probe for answers. They could see Hawke wished for some personal space. It's not easy to cope with losing a close friend so they decided to give her the time she required. But they had no idea she mourns the loss of two. Only Fenris knew that in spite of all the harm the Arishok has done she still couldn't let him go.

"Hawke. Do you have a moment?"

Miriam looked up. She was deep in thought after she secluded herself in her chamber with Charlie being the only company as she resumed the futile attempts to beat down her sorrows. The white haired elf walked in after she invited him with a nod. He took place next to her on her bed and for few seconds accompanied her in watching the flames dancing in the fireplace, listening to the cracks of burning wood. Charlie slept by the fire, not acknowledging the new guest.

"You still miss him, don't you?"

Fenris finally decided to break the silence. There was no doubt who he was talking about. With a little laugh Miriam lowered her head but she couldn't deny it. She did. More than she wished to admit. Her meaningful silence was an answer enough.

"Hawke you have proven... a friend to me. I really wish to help you but you don't speak. I don't know how."

"You don't have to."

She said, still staring blankly at the embers swirling above the fire.

"I did that to myself.. don't waste your time on me."

The last part of this sentence sent a really unpleasant jolt down her chest when she realised how hostile it came out. _Great job, Hawke, insult your remaining friends .._ she scolded herself.

"I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to sound like that.."

Fenris allowed a little smile to curve his mouth. He knew she didn't. She never does whenever she's upset.

"If there's anything we can do, just tell us."

He stood up, clearly getting the message that Hawke wished no pity and wanted to deal with her pain on her own. He didn't take offense, he was exactly the same as her. When he attempted to leave Hawke felt herself panic for a moment. Her hand shot out to grab at Fenris' wrist to stop him.

"Wait. There _is_ something you can do.."

"I'm listening."

Was the answer as he sat back down. She wanted to ask him to hug her and stay for a while but she'd kept it inside for too long and she just.. snapped. Without a second thought Hawke embraced Fenris as tightly as she could as she wasn't able to hold her tears back anymore. That earned her a slightly annoyed grumble but she wasn't shoved aside. Right now she needed a shoulder to cry on and she didn't really care who it was. Fenris at least knew exactly what troubled her. He let her weep in his arms as she released the fullness of her grief along with the tears spilling down his chest plate. Miriam had much to despair about. But what pained her the most was a dreadful memory of this one moment when she had the only chance to admit her feelings, the only chance they were alone and no one aside from the Arishok could judge her. She'd waited too long. Perhaps if she had done what her heart dictated, things would've been different today. If he denied, she wouldn't have _hoped_ for anything more. If he accepted, perhaps he would've never even considered betraying her and assaulting Kirkwall. But she wasn't brave enough..

_This was the first time Hawke had been allowed into the Qunari encampment after the dusk. In truth she wasn't sure if the one-eyed Sten didn't let her in just out of habit as he was clearly very weary when he sleepily waved his hand towards the gate after she asked for permission. His shift has long come to an end but the replacement was apparently late. Poor bugger. Hawke walked through the mostly empty camp, having the moon as the only source of light. The flaps of the tents were fluttering on the hot summer wind blowing from above the sea as she crossed the main yard. Most of the Qunari were already asleep or at least have retired to their tents. There wasn't a peep to be heard, the only sound in the air was the hum of the ocean, the waves gently stroking the carved side of the docks. For just a moment Hawke considered leaving as she was probably too late with a visit. She'd come back tomorrow at more tolerable hour._

_But then she saw him. Sitting just on the outskirts of the camp on the edge above the water, his legs dangling beneath as he stared out onto the sea which reflected the stars. It almost seemed like there was no sea, just the stars above and below swimming in the vast blackness of the sky. His silver hair swayed on the warm night breeze, almost shining in the darkness with the soft pale moonlight spilling onto him. His armor has been removed as were his weapons. Without his stiff grace and pride, he seemed like an entirely different man. Miriam felt her heart beat a little faster. Not many had the privilege to see the Arishok without the mask of a fearless leader, exposed and enjoying the moment of peace. Hesitantly, feeling almost strange to approach him like this Hawke choked out a greeting._

_"Shanedan, Arishok."_

_He wasn't aware of her presence and yet there was no surprise on his face when he turned to calmly look at her. It might've almost seemed that he was waiting for her. She hadn't visited the Qunari in almost a week after all. And if he wasn't waiting, then at least expecting her. His voice also betrayed none of his emotions as he gave gave an answer._

_"You're unusually late, Serah Hawke."_

_"Yes, I know and I'm sorry."_

_"There's no need to apologise. You didn't interrupt my rest."_

_She smiled. Whenever the Arishok was in company of his soldiers, he was stern, always wearing his telltale scowl. He carried himself proudly as though he owned the entire city already, each step had a purpose yet to be told. And now his tone was softer than she had ever heard, his posture relaxed. Slightly leaned back, with his enormous hands supporting his weight on each side. If anything he seemed to be in suspiciously good mood. This was one of the rare moments he didn't have to be the leader of the Antaam and could just relish in the quiet moment. Well, it was quiet until Hawke decided to show up._

_Encouraged by his calm expression and words, Hawke carefully took a place beside him and followed his gaze towards the misty horizon. There wasn't a shadow of doubt why he enjoyed staring out on the sea. Somewhere there hidden from view by the horizon was his homeland. Par Vollen. A sigh left her lips when memories of Lothering crept back into her mind. It's been over a year now.._

_"I miss my home.. Do you miss yours? What is Par Vollen like?"_

_She asked wriggling her hands nervously. Whenever she was close to him she felt like she should collapse under the ground or have the Maker smite her. This was far closer than she'd ever managed to get. She could almost feel his powerful heart steadily beating out a calm rhythm in his chest just like hers, similar and yet entirely different. The question she'd asked was merely an excuse to listen to his soothing voice. She could spend hours listening to him and she would never get bored, no matter if he spoke of military or his utterly negative opinion about Kirkwall or whatever he was in mood to talk about. The curious thing that Hawke noticed was the fact that all Qunari are rather quiet and laconic when it comes to interacting with strangers. Arishok was exactly the same when they'd first met but as the time went on, he started to turn more talkative whenever Hawke was nearby. It was a sign of great trust to speak about personal matters with a human outside the Qun and that warmed her heart._

_"It's far hotter in the jungles of Par Vollen than in this.. place."_

_He started with the usual disdain for Kirkwall in his voice. It was kind of hard to imagine hotter than the summer in Free Marches. If she went to Par Vollen, she'd probably melt like a patch of snow the moment she stepped onto the shore. Hawke settled herself comfortably as he continued to talk about the humid climate of his homeland. About the great trees, dangerous wild animals, especially the carnivorous spotted cats. The "kassanda" or "sundew" in her language was what truly piqued her interest. Thinking about a plant that could hunt and entrap insects like a sentient creature was fascinating. Especially because this plant turned out to be as common in Par Vollen as an elfroot in Ferelden. They way he spoke of this, the barely perceptible tune of his voice was telling her everything. He did miss his home. But he never outright admitted it. That would've been seen as a sign of weakness. That's one of the things she learned about the Qunari. "Never show weakness, even to those you trust." A little distress that came to her when he spoke of spiders that are even bigger than those she'd encountered so far, because excuse me_ how _, was what finally made her realise that she was ogling him. Heat gathered in her cheeks and she promptly looked down at her feet. That was a close one as he turned to face her not even a second later. Trying to compose herself she breathed_

 _"Even_ bigger _?"_

_"I do not understand why you find it so difficult to believe."_

_The Arishok scoffed and returned to gazing at the sea, absent mindedly scratching at an old scar on his arm that, judging by the shape and size, was left by a set of big and sharp spider fangs. They were_ huge _indeed.. Hawke looked slightly up and swallowed thickly. His hand was resting inches from her own. Just there, unmoving. She was torn. She simultaneously wanted to do this and didn't want. This idea was all kinds of awful. Shaking like a leaf on the wind she hesitantly reached out._ I'm going to get myself hurt one of these days.. _And just when she was about to touch his fingers, her hand wandered up and scratched at the back of her head._ Coward! _She internally yelled at herself. Why is it so difficult?_ Just tell him already! _She intended to try again but to her disappointment the Arishok pulled himself up to his feet and nodded, giving her the last glance of his stunning golden eyes._

_"It is time for you to leave. Panahedan, Hawke."_

_Grinding her teeth and clenching her fist so hard that her nails nearly broke through the skin of her palm she watched the Arishok enter his tent and disappear from sight to have his rest._ Damn it! _She'd lost a precious opportunity that may never repeat itself. Hating herself so much more for the rest of the night she hastily left the encampment, pulling a hood over her head to conceal her face that had taken the color of a ripe tomato. As quietly as she could she walked past the Sten who in the meantime had fallen asleep standing._

"Do you feel better now?"

Hawke sniffed and pulled away, wiping her tears with a broken smile. The weight has been lifted off her chest and she indeed felt much better now. For a while at least. She really needed to throw it all out.

"Yes.. Th- thank you, Fenris."

"Anytime. But do warn me next time."

He snapped with his usual bitterness and began to head towards the door again. Just in the moment they suddenly slammed open. Hawke jerked at the unexpected intrusion but barely held back a burst of laughter when Fenris jumped back away like a startled cat and his lyrium tattoos immediately flared up with light. _Damn, that standing leap!_ She snickered to herself honestly impressed. She'd never seen Fenris jump that far even with a running start. Oh, the things fear does to people.. For a second the elf looked like he was contemplating a murder of the trespasser. The offending individual turned out to be Varric, as always with his shirt unbuttoned he charged into the room with disbelief painted across his face along with a grin he wore every time he was about to tell good news to Miriam. This time it was no different.

"Hawke, you wouldn't believe who I just saw out in the city!"

* * *

Never in his life before had Taashath felt so stiff and uncomfortable. Isabela instructed him to act natural but this only made him act even less natural. Dodging daggers stared at him by all people around as best as he could he followed Isabela into the Lotown. She had to make herself known if her plan was supposed to work. For some reason he had a feeling no one has assaulted him yet, verbally or physically, was because they all knew Isabela and what she was capable of. And if not, it was most likely they were _terrified_. He was over a foot taller than pretty much everyone here. Ignoring the citizens, he looked at Isabela again. It felt so wrong to trust the pirate with his life but to be honest so far she'd given him no reason not to do so. She was slowly but surely growing on him. He still hadn't expressed his gratitude for being pulled out from the sea. He shuddered at the memory in spite of himself. The waves fighting him, dragging him down into the depths, the last bits of the precious air escaping his mouth.. He shook his head and pushed the thoughts out of his mind. Now's not the time.

They walked through the marketplace mostly without issues, unless you'd consider all those death glares an issue. If the looks could kill, Taashath had a feeling he'd drop dead right by the entrance from the amount of "killing blows" he'd been delivered. No one spared him. Thankfully, the people eventually lost interest and returned to their duties. It turned out his arrival wasn't anything special as he'd noticed quite a few Kossith here and there. They were probably mercenaries or even merchants, Tal-Vashoth, going around and just doing what they pleased without causing commotion or being a nuisance to people. The city hasn't changed much since he'd last been here. It was still an utter chaos, humans walking through the streets with no purpose, imekari running around and breathlessly laughing, chasing one another only to turn from being pursued to pursuer by a slap to the shoulder, each time loudly exclaiming

"Tag!"

To say the least it was bizarre. Humans.. "People living their lives for good or ill." he remembered Hawke tell him once. The unease in his throat gained in strength. In truth he wasn't worried about someone recognising him or attacking. That he could deal with. But he didn't want to meet Hawke just yet. What was he supposed to tell her? _I apologise_ was not exactly the best idea. It wasn't enough after he'd nearly destroyed the city and stabbed her in the back. If she realised it was him, how would she react? He needed his time and so did she.. The thoughts plaguing his mind are suddenly interrupted by something small ramming into the side of his knee. One of the children, probably around six or seven years old had accidentally ran into his leg. Taashath stopped befuddled by the sudden impact and glanced down at the girl, barely reaching his thigh with her tiny head, as she stared up with her mouth slightly agape. Blinking up at him she smiled bashfully, lifted her hand and gave him a stiff, nervous wave. He remembers Hawke perform this gesture to the dwarf with a crossbow more than once.

"Hi."

 _Hi?_ Is that a way to speak to someone who was able to lift her in one hand and equally capable of killing her with a single strike of his bare hand? For a moment he stood there like frozen as the girl chuckled when she noticed his confusion. What does she find so funny about the whole situation? She'd surely seen a Qunari before.. He tilted his head and gave her a once over. She was a pretty little girl, with red hair tied into two braids, freckles covering her nose and cheeks and piercing green eyes. He nearly laughed at how terribly _small_ and fragile she was. Some Qunari toddlers are often the same size as she is. With a goofy grin she pointed at him.

"You have very pretty horns. Are they real?"

Even if he could say anything without wasting hours of Isabela's work to camouflage him, he had absolutely no idea what. This girl didn't run away and even had the courage to compliment him and ask the most pointless question he'd ever heard (why wouldn't they be real?), unafraid despite Kirkwall, her home, being nearly reduced to nothing by his folk not even a week ago. Where was she when all this happened? She can't be that forgetful. Bas are really.. _really_ confusing.. Their children were nothing like the Qunari. Oblivious and without any responsibilities. The more she stared at him, the weirder he felt. Thankfully, a woman, redhead just like the girl, ran up to them and hastily picked her up with a look of detest in her eyes as she shot him a glare. A foreign word describing a woman amongst the basra who brings the child into the world and raises it appeared in his head. _Mother._ Then she backed away watching him carefully. The girl waved again.

"Bye!"

That was.. _incongruous_ to put it lightly _._ A tap on his shoulder ripped him out of his shock. Isabela stood next to him with a taunting smile.

"Having fun, big guy? Come on. We should move."

He simply grunted in response as he remembered it would be better not to say anything. Some people could recognise his voice and besides he had nothing to say to that. She was right, they should move. No point in lingering here any longer. Still looking through his shoulder at the woman carrying the girl away he spotted the imekari waving to him. Strange. She was too quick to trust for her own good. Her _mother_ should take care of that if she doesn't want her child to get herself hurt or killed. He turned to follow Isabela and nearly stepped on her as he realised she hadn't moved and was standing like she'd been paralyzed, staring forward. He scowled down at her and looked up to search for the reason of her behavior. And he immediately froze just as well. _Oh.. no._

"You have got to be shitting me.."

Said the dwarf from across the street with his eyes wide opened and gawking at them. Taashath remembered this one well. It was the same cheerful dwarf that accompanied Hawke nearly everywhere she went. He was with her that memorable day of their meeting when she first came to his encampment along with the white haired elf and the nervous Bas Saarebas when that foolish merchant tried to trade some made up service for gaatlok. He also was at the Keep with her when it was attacked. All of the sudden he wished he could collapse into the ground, meld into shadows, anything. Just disappear. That was something completely new. Taashath was never a coward but this time all he wanted to do was turn invisible and go as far away from here as possible, as quickly as possible. Just like he had wanted to back then as he stared at Hawke bleeding at his feet.. but this time he at least knew the reason of this feeling's presence. Why did this dwarf have to be here at this given moment? In spite of everything he had always known, the Qun and all, he slowly started to believe in this "bad luck" Isabela was constantly talking about whenever something has gone wrong. It was definitely stuck with them for the time being. He quickly searched his memories for a name of this individual between the many names of Hawke's comrades. After all this time he'd memorized all of them. Marked elf, Fenris. Male Bas Saarebas, Anders. Captain of the guard, Aveline. Female Bas Saarebas, Merril. Crossbow wielding dwarf.. _Varric._ A quiet curse involving the Maker's genitals slipped from Isabela's tongue as Varric smiled widely and laughed with disbelief on his face.

"Isabela?!"

It was too late for running. The dwarf quickly walked up to them and reached for Isabela's hand. She hesitantly accepted a firm handshake he offered and Taashath blinked in surprise. _What was the point of this?_ He thought. Looking at this logically, the gesture didn't give anything to either person participating. Maybe it's some odd way of showing respect.. For the umpteenth time today he sighed and mused how strange bas are. He'll probably never fully understand them. Varric continued to express his astonishment to Isabela as Taashath stared in confusion, trying to think of a way to get out of this.

"Andraste's dimple buttcheeks, girl, we thought you were done for! How'd you get here? You look like hell!"

It was true, she had to admit. Her clothes were crumpled and stained, her eyes sunken and tired. The only part of her that looked relatively decent was her hair she had brushed just this morning. Feeling far more awkward at the sudden reunion than she should, Isabela made a raspberry noise and tried to do her best to avoid Varric's eyes. _Cover's blown._ She had to think. _Fast._

"This is.. a long story, I'd rather not talk about it here."

"Ah, no matter."

His gaze shifted from Isabela to Taashath and his eyebrows curiously wandered up. He eyed the former Qunari distrustfully from head to toe for few seconds, giving them both a miniature heart attack. This was the moment of truth. If he doesn't get fooled, they're in trouble. Varric looked him over one more time before he spoke again.

"And who's this? A new friend of yours?"

"Uh. Yeah, you could say that."

Not entirely a lie but definitely not full truth either. A tight knot of panic in Taashath's stomach loosened a little when he wasn't recognised. It worked. Once this is over, he will have to think of a way to thank Isabela for saving his hide _again._ He snorted in response at the dwarf who had already lost his interest and turned back to Isabela with the expression that told "I bet it's quite a story." Varric clasped his hands together far too enthusiastic for their liking. This was getting increasingly dangerous and they both knew where this conversation was going. Isabela wanted to bluff but Varric was faster to speak. The moment she dreaded came way sooner than she was expecting.

"Hawke's going to be over the moon! I'll go pick her up and get you drinks at the Hanged Man."

 _No, no, not yet._ Isabela tried her best not to puke out of pure panic. Varric may have not seen through the mask Taashath was wearing but Hawke might. She knew him far better than any of them when he was still the Arishok. And not to mention, even if she didn't recognise him, Isabela doubled she had forgotten about what happens if the relic is not delivered to Antiva. The idea of involving Miriam in the mess with Castillon right now was a really bad idea. _Awful_ even. _Damn it, Zevran. Where are you when I need someone murdered?_ That would be so much more convenient to just ask the former Crow for aid in this matter but she hadn't seen him for over a year now, with the last time being back at Denerim in Pearl before he continued to follow the Grey Wardens to fight against the Blight and slay the archdemon. It was highly improbable that Zevran, of all people, had perished when the darkspawn have finally taken Denerim but still not entirely _impossible._ He is a resourceful and slippery bastard who can always make do in any situation he finds himself in but no matter where he is right now or if he _is_ at all, he was out of Isabela's reach. She tried to talk her way out of this but without much success.

"Varric, that's kind of you but-"

"Come on, Hawke's been miserable for days now. She'll be delighted to see you."

"Well, yes but-"

Before she had time to finish her sentence, Varric was already gone. Damn him. _How is he so fast on these short legs of his?_ That was something he couldn't understand. She released a long sigh of exasperation as she realised their plan has just been flipped upside down. Blasted bad luck that's been haunting her and everyone even remotely associated with her ever since she started to look for this stupid book. That's why she wasn't a better person before. Because _that's_ where being a good person has gotten her so far. She could've been out on the sea, living her life like there's no tomorrow instead of getting stuck in Kirkwall with an emotionally confused Qunari who could very much kill himself by just _existing_ in the area and with Castillon's men most likely already looking for her. And yet here she is regretting her decisions as always. Fucking Tome of Koslun, fucking Castillon, fucking _everything._ It was directly his fault that she'd been caught up in this mess. Her plan was to scare him at first but now she was more than okay with stabbing him to death right after she cut his testicles off and fed them to him. Running was not an option now. It wasn't right to leave like this. If Hawke is really miserable, she should at least see with her if only to tell "I'm fine". Not to lie, a drink would be nice right now just to calm her nerves but she had a feeling this wasn't going to end well. So much for being discreet..

"Vashedan."

She heard Taashath mutter behind her quietly enough for him to be heard by her and no one else in this blasted city. This was one of the words in this strange language of his she didn't understand even a bit but basing on the context, she was pretty sure she knew what this one meant. With a nervous chuckle, not even looking back at him she shook her head. Just to be sure she asked

"Is this something akin to our 'crap', 'fuck', 'damn it' or 'shit'?"

"Yes."

"Then yes. Exactly my thoughts.."

Taashath grit his teeth as he stared at the place where Varric was standing merely seconds ago. It was way too early for this. He felt like he's been caught running around with clothing stuck in his horns. There was no doubt where Varric has gone to. Backing down and hiding was of no use. His heart hastened just like that day in the Keep. Now the premature meeting with Hawke was inevitable.


	5. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the Hanged Man with friends has passed better than anyone could've expected. It feels good to be together once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, nvm what I said last time, I'm in a writing amok. Words just come to me and it feels nice to keep going.
> 
> Also, thanks for all the kudos, I really appreciate it. Never expected to get even one tbh 😂

Despite the questionable condition of her right leg, Hawke moved incredibly quickly on her crutches through the town with her heart pounding madly. She had to see for herself. She knew that Varric is known to be a liar and a storyteller but he wouldn't have lied to Hawke in that matter. It was way too important. He can be a jerk sometimes but he's not cruel. Her mind was all over the place. Isabela is back? How did she  _ do _ that? She has to be the most slippery person in all of Thedas and Free Marches altogether.  _ Bloody pirate..  _ she chuckled to herself. And here she was worrying that she'll never hear from Isabela ever again.. With how fast she was going Varric and Charlie had trouble with keeping up the pace. She didn't want to waste any second before reuniting with Isabela. Every moment of pain would be worth it.

And yet she felt on edge. Varric had mentioned a new companion of hers as well. A  _ Qunari  _ no less. And a Saarebas at that. The way he described his mask left no place for doubts. He differed from other Saarebas as he had no chains on him but it wasn't the thing she wished to give a thought right now. She had so many questions, who the hell the Qunari was and how he ended up with her among others, and desperately needed answers. If anyone can give them, it will be Isabela. Hawke barely noticed when she traversed the Hightown and Lowtown, ignoring most of the people greeting her. Nothing else mattered to her other than getting to the Hanged Man as soon as possible. Varric said they will meet there. The waiting was killing her, she had to know. The moment she stopped in front of the familiar door, a grim signboard depicting a person hanging upside down by their ankles swaying on the wind and creaking ominously above her head however, she hesitated. Her stomach tightened when Varric reached for the doorknob to let her in as she was still clutching the crutches. The moment of truth.. The old hinges creaked as well as the door swung open.

This was a  _ bad  _ idea. Taashath couldn't think of anything else when Isabela led him to the tavern. He didn't even know why she insisted on actually going to the inn instead of continuing her task and why he kept following. It was odd, he was used to leading instead of following the lead, especially the lead of a human. He had learned to trust Isabela to some extent but it still felt unnatural to him. But he still decided to follow as she was the only person who didn't hold a grudge against him (and if she did she didn't show it) and knew her mission. The sense of purpose she was giving was somewhat reassuring to him. So he followed through the half-crumbling city, far different than cities of Par Vollen and before the door to the tavern. Muffled sounds of chatter, music and laughter coming from the inside piqued his curiosity. It didn't seem so bad. At first. As Isabela opened the door, he immediately was stunned. Initially, he thought the smell of foreign foods and spices around Kirkwall strange but this paled in comparison to the scent filling the so called "Hanged Man". Smell of cooked meats and vegetables was decent enough, especially because he hadn't eaten much in the last few days, but the stench of alcohol that every person in the main room was giving off left him frozen in his boots. The "aroma" alone was enough to leave a man staggering and feeling dizzy even without senses of a Kossith. He blinked few times at the stinging smell and sneezed into his hand before going inside. How do the bas put up with such circumstances on a daily basis?  _ Most likely the same way Tal-Vashoth do with the lack of purpose..  _ He thought bitterly. If he wasn't wary of everything around him, he would've hit his head against the upper part of the entrance. He had to hunch down to fit through the door with how small the damned thing was. His presence immediately attracted many unkind stares but after a walk through the Lowtown he got used to them and learned to ignore them. The inn was full of all kinds of people. Men, women, humans, elves, dwarves. Some of them waves or greeted Isabela as she walked in, saying It has been some time since she visited.

"Something stopped me."

She answered to one of the men, scratching at the back of her neck with a kittenish smile.  _ To put it lightly. _ His lips quirked up in a little smirk for just a moment before falling to his usual stoic expression. Looking about, he even noticed one Tal-Vashoth of pale complexion sitting in a corner with his legs up on the tabletop and sipping from a cup, eyeing him suspiciously. The stares of basra he could bear but this one really gave him chills. Hawke had mentioned him once when she came to his camp on an actual business. A blade for hire. Mercenary. Strange that those who used to be of his kind willingly choose this path.. Isabela picked a table further from others and summoned Taashath with a wave of her hand to sit down as well. Glancing at the nearly white-skinned Kossith one last time, he awkwardly took his seat and scanned the room. His keen eyes spotted the source of the music that was a group of people playing different kinds of instruments. A drum, a flute and some sort of stringed instrument he hadn't seen before. All this together was making a pleasant combination and sort of lifting the atmosphere. Behind the counter stood a bartender, just doing his job. Cleaning cups, serving drinks. A young woman was walking between the tables and carrying around food. Laughable, that a simple tavern seemed more organized than the authorities of the city the last time he was here..

Isabela and Taashath waited for Varric to return with Hawke, sitting on pins and needles. Taashath caught himself on nervously drumming his claws against the table in the rhythm of the music while Isabela was picking at the edge of her shirt. He still had no idea what he was supposed to say should Hawke see through their deception. If she did, especially in the middle of the Hanged Man, it was going to get nasty real quick. He had no doubts that Hawke would also bring her.. _mabari_ was the word.. along and honestly it had quite a set of teeth that would most likely cut through his skin without bigger issues. And Varric had a _crossbow._ For _some_ reason he figured that an apology would not be good enough. He needed to think of something more convincing if he wanted her to forgive him. The waitress passed by, asking if they wish to order something, a little unsettled by Taashath's glare he sent her way, and Isabela quickly dismissed her saying that they're waiting for a friend.

"Nervous?"

Isabela asked the moment the waitress left them be as she noticed the drumming. Taashath grunted with disapproval at her and slid his hand back onto his knees. The pirate queen laughed shortly, trying to cover up her own unease.

"Ah, don't worry. Hawke was really fond of you, you know? I'm sure she would've already canoodled you if she had a chance before."

He frowned at her from behind his mask, not bothering to ask what "canoodling someone" means. Cursed bas idioms and metaphors. They never make sense to him, even if he knows their meaning, which he doesn't at this moment and didn't really care. Creak of the opening door has sent a shiver down his spine and he instinctively whipped around to search for.. Yes. There they were, he realised with a jolt. Varric walked in first and held the door with a theatrical bow as the mabari jumped in, a proud beast always overflowing with energy and joy, and following it.. His heart raced as he'd laid eyes on the woman walking through the door, supporting her weight on crutches as her leg was apparently still ailing her. Miriam Hawke. He wanted to look away but he couldn't. It felt like he hadn't seen her in ages, there was no way he's taking his eyes off of her. He felt relieved to see her standing mostly on her own after what he'd done to her and he knew he should be glad but a chilling coil of panic in his throat was too tight for him to just forget about it.  _ If she sees me for who I am we're doomed.  _ Her vibrant blue eyes bore a great deal of uncertainty and suffering he'd never seen before but the moment she spotted Isabela all this pain and sadness disappeared, making place for honest and pure euphoria.

"Isabela!"

The woman in question smiled widely at the sight of her friend and for a moment she forgot why she was so nervous in the first place. She sprung up to her feet and rushed over to Hawke to throw her arms around her neck. It was so unlike her but she couldn't help it. In truth, Isabela was pretty sure Hawke may have died from her injuries even though the Arishok has spared her life so there was no greater relief than to see her well. Anders certainly wasn't idling. Hawke didn't embrace her due to her trouble with standing on her own and full hands but she nuzzled her face into the crook of Isabela's neck and laughed breathlessly. It felt so good to be back.

"It's so good to see you again, Hawke!"

"You as well, Isabela! How you've been?"

"I've so much to tell you!"

She exclaimed and helped Miriam towards the table to take a seat not to strain her injured leg any further. Charlie was bouncing around them both and barking excitedly apparently glad to see Isabela as well. Their show of affection didn't go unnoticed but the people in the tavern seemed more interested in their own affairs (meaning drinking) as they didn't honor either of women with anything more but a glance. When everyone took their places, Varric sighed contented to see Hawke finally smile and enjoy herself.

"So, about those drinks. What can I get you?"

Hawke had asked for Rose of Rowan as she never was a fan of very strong alcohol and getting drunk in her condition seemed like a  _ bad  _ idea, while Isabela ordered her favorite brandy. It's been a while since she's had it. Varric was about to leave for the bar when he turned around again and looked at Taashath who didn't seem to pay much attention as he was keeping his eyes down and staring at his hands resting on his lap.

"What about our big friend here? Does your quiet Qunari fancy a drink?"

He looked up. To say he was flabbergasted would be a severe understatement. _"Our" friend?_ That was the last thing he was expecting the dwarf to say. His glance shifted to Isabela sitting beside him so that Hawke would have a seat on the other side of the table (and for that he was grateful, he would've probably dropped dead if Hawke sat next to him).

"What do you think?"

She asked. Considering how tense he felt, a drink would be much welcome even though he never indulged in intoxication. It was expected of him as the leader of the Antaam to always have mind and focus as sharp and clear as a newly forged blade. But that was before and now he needed something to calm his nerves. He nodded.

"Something stronger?"

Without hesitation he gave another nod.

"Excellent! I'll be right back."

Varric said before leaving them to buy the promised round. Isabela gave Taashath a wink, leaving him mildly confused, before shifting her interest to Hawke.

"So, how's your health?"

"I'm not complaining. All wounds are healing surprisingly well. But the one on my chest and leg are going to leave a hell of a scar."

Hawke answered making herself comfortable in her seat. Her short black hair gently caressed her rosy cheeks, piercing blue eyes shone from beneath her fringe with the familiar cold fire and her smile made the room seem much brighter. She looked just the way he remembered her from their first meeting, only even more.. radiant. But the copper like scent hanging around her was something he hoped not to notice. Taashath suppressed a wince. She still reeked of blood.. From the wounds he'd inflicted upon her.  _ He  _ had scarred her.

"But we're not here to talk about me and my boring recuperation. Tell me how you escaped!"

Her shimmering eyes turned to Taashath and he felt every muscle in his body tense under her gaze. The way she stared at him made him feel horribly exposed as though she could see through him. There was no gasp of surprise from her, no yelling, just curiosity. She had no idea.. But she kept  _ staring _ , as though she hoped he'd look up at her and stop examining his own claws. But he couldn't. Every second felt like an eternity under her mesmerising gaze as his heart started to beat so rapidly that it might seem it was about to shatter to million pieces. Miriam wasn't about to gouge his eyes out but the thought that was supposed to be comforting only intensified the foreign feeling that caused a rush of adrenaline to flood his system, making it difficult not to tremble.  _ What's happening to me?  _ Left unsatisfied by a lack of even a wayward glance her way, Hawke returned to talking with Isabela.

"Varric mentioned you had a Qunari with you.. but I don't believe I've seen him before. Tell me about him while you're at it."

Isabela seemed more than happy to finally chat with her friend as she immediately complied. Hawke listened to her story with halted breath. Miriam had to admit that Isabela wasn't half as good at storytelling as Varric but he was a writer so it doesn't count. She listened, her eyes wide, as Isabela told her about a grand escape from the Qunari ship with the aid of her new companion Taashath. About how she convinced him to help by offering him far better life elsewhere, how he'd stolen a key to her shackles and how they barely survived on the sea as the storm was intent on ending their lives prematurely. But one aspect of this tale Hawke couldn't understand. Taashath looked like a Saarebas. The unstitched lips were something she could get as was the lack of chains on him but the way Isabela talked about a sudden absence of his magic..

"Wait, so he is a Saarebas who can't cast spells? How did  _ that _ happen?"

Taashath listened to the tale of the pirate with honest awe. He knew the whole story, having been a part of it, but it felt like Isabela was speaking of something completely different. She included bits and pieces of how it actually was (which reminded him that he has yet to thank her when they have a moment to speak in private) but the rest she twisted beyond recognition with her keen mind and sly tongue. And Hawke ate it up like a delicious meal, asking a lot of questions about the details but never doubting its truthfulness. Meanwhile, Varric has returned with the cups and sat down next to Hawke, scratching her hound behind its ears and listening as well. Taashath looked down into the cup filled with suspiciously strong smelling liquid and hummed thoughtfully before glancing at Isabela with a hint of appreciation. Lying came to her so naturally, so easily it was almost terrifying. "I'm a liar" she once told him and he never doubted that but to see her bluff like it was nothing was quite a sight to behold. With a little training she would make a decent Ben-Hassrath spy. Isabela snorted and crossed her arms with a feigned expression of hurt.

"Do I look like an expert in studying Fade or Qunari? Perhaps he managed to sever his link to the Fade.. Don't ask me, I'm not even a mage myself. Hell, if I know!"

"Right, sorry. But.. does that make him.. a Tranquil, or something?"

Varric chuckled at that with clear amusement and picked up his cup to take a sip. Taashath didn't know what a "Tranquil" is but he had a feeling he didn't wish to find out. He wasn't in mood for asking questions, nor was he capable of it without revealing himself.

"Too anxious for a Tranquil if you'd ask me."

The dwarf commented before taking another swig. He must've noticed the way Taashath dug his claws into the edge of his seat. He sighed and allowed his hand to relax slightly, hoping they would take it as the discomfort of visiting a place with no familiar faces for the first time outside the Qun.  _ Vashedan. _ He mused as he felt a tiny splinter dig under the claw of his thumb. He'll have to get it out later.. Isabela waved her hand dismissively.

"Either way, he is still useful with that giant sword of his. I must say he's doing a good job at guarding my ass."

At that Varric choked on his drink and dissolved into a fit of giggles as Hawke raised her eyebrow at him before her face brightened and she started to chuckle herself. Whatever the case was Taashath frowned at them all while Isabela sighed with exasperation. He seemed to be the only person to not have understood the hidden meaning. Obviously..

"Really? Not everything I say has a sexual subtext to it, you know."

With breath catching in her throat, Hawke looked up with a glint of tears in her eyes. And she drank from her own cup, shaking her head and still giggling. She was laughing, but why? Not that he minded. The sound of her melodious laughter was somehow putting him at ease.

"Every day I learn something new about you, Isabela."

The awkwardness that Taashath could see in Isabela's movement after she discreetly pulled her chair slightly away from his was passed onto him like a contagious disease when he realised what they were implying. Sexual subtext-  _ The audacity..  _ Now he  _ did  _ mind. He snarled and folded his arms across his chest, outraged by the assumption alone. And he couldn't say anything about it. A slight flutter of annoyance in his chest was slowly growing stronger. Right now he really wanted to hit the  _ funny _ dwarf.  _ Stupid basra.  _ He thought and tossed his drink in one go. It burned as it went down but to him it was barely any inconvenience. The bitter liquid was unimpressive to say the least but it still left a pleasant warmth in its wake. Oh, he needed that. He sat there for few seconds before he realised that the table had fallen silent and everyone was gawking at him. Varric blinked and with a hint of sincere respect in his voice he said

"Damn, Taashath. Do you have any idea what you just drank?"

He shrugged. He didn't care and was not an expert when it comes to types of booze but whatever it was, they seemed a bit shocked. Hawke rubbed her brow astonished.

"If I remember the smell correctly.."

"Yes, you do."

Isabela confirmed with her eyebrows creating deep lines of her forehead. Before any questions arose in his mind, Varric followed up with an explanation, pointing at the pale Kossith over his shoulder with his thumb. And he was still watching them..  _ him  _ the most carefully. Like he doesn't have anything better to do.

"I asked our Tal-Vashoth fellow Maraas for an advice and he suggested  _ this.  _ It was something even Fenris couldn't swallow.."

Taashath snorted and gave them a look basically asking "so what?". If  _ that  _ was the strongest alcohol this place has to offer then he could surely say that it's rather disappointing. They have no idea what a strong drink is. He remembers that time back in Seheron when he'd had a  _ real  _ drink with his brothers at arms after one of the biggest victories against the Tevinter Imperium. He was barely a Kithshok back then. That was something one can never forget. Maraas-Lok was like liquid fire and it could make even the most resilient Qunari choke on for it to it still burn for hours afterwards. Back then he was actually wondering if an unseasoned human would survive a toast with the Qunari and when he asked a Sten about it, he responded with a short laugh and said that he highly doubts it. Perhaps after one of these the nerves in his throat were too worn out to appreciate the drinks that humans serve. Compared to Maraas-Lok, this thing was barely better than water. Varric simply nodded with a significant amount of apprehension.

"You're a tough one, I'll give you that."

He muttered looking into his cup before finishing it. Hawke herself returned to her drink with a slight unsettlement in her eyes. She knew the Qunari are tough like old leather but she herself remembers how Fenris barely took a breath after this one and for a moment she thought he was actually going to suffocate. The smell of this whiskey, brandy or whatever it was, alone made her cough and gag. And Isabela's companion didn't even bat an eye as he downed the contents of his cup. She could see why Fenris preferred wine from anything else. As she was looking into her cup, she caught the briefest flick of familiar golden hued eyes, seemingly glowing in the slight gloom of the main hall, right in front of her. With a pang of fear and naive hope she gasped and looked up only to see Taashath, once again watching his own hand, his claws drumming against the tabletop. For a moment she thought..

"Hawke? You okay?"

She blinked and looked at Varric as he asked the question with a slightly worried expression.  _ He damn should be.  _ She thought to herself. After a week of tormenting herself, lone sleepless nights full of longing, she might be finally losing it and going mad. It wouldn't be long now before she started to see faces in walls. That bastard never should've left her heartbroken like this. Nor should she have hesitated when given an opportunity to make her feelings official to him. They are both equally guilty.

"Y- yeah. I thought I saw.. No, never mind. I might be imagining things.."

With the way they talked about Isabela's adventure with Taashath, conflict between mages and templars and all, they barely noticed when the sun has travelled all the way across the sky to sink behind the horizon and the darkness fell over the city. Gradually the people started to leave until only a handful remained. Next rounds have been bought, cups downed, supper (rather tasty one to be entirely honest) ordered. Charlie had long fallen asleep under the table when Isabela finally stretched with a big yawn. Maker, after a week of living in wilderness she missed the normal beds. It will be such a relief to finally have some real sleep.

"Well, I think it's time for a nap. Nice talking to you all."

"Good idea.."

Hawke muttered through half closed eyes and stood up taking her crutches. It seemed like a poor idea to go out into the city crippled and unarmed at this hour. There are more than enough of thugs and cutthroats in the back alleys to take her down even if she was fully capable of defending herself.

"I'll book us some rooms."

Varric bid everyone goodnight and retired to his own room. Taashath had to try really hard not to sigh loudly when Hawke finally left the table to pay for the night. Her presence had never had such an effect on him before the invasion. Her visits were not unwelcome, albeit sometimes a little annoying but never unnerving. Something has changed the moment he realised he was about to kill her but he still couldn't determine what exactly. Fortunately, Isabela's disguise was working flawlessly. That moment when he looked once at her and set her on alert was a close one but to his relief she decided to dismiss it as her imagination. The tension gradually left him as he watched Hawke approach the counter. She looked much different in fine clothes she wore tonight instead of her armor. His eyes wandered from her dark hair down her shoulders and well muscled arms which sadly were concealed by soft material of her attire to the curves of her hips much more visible without the heavy skirting of her armor.. The clunk of coins hitting the wood snapped him out of this and he immediately looked away. What was he even thinking? The room was slightly spinning before his eyes, so he assumed the alcohol must've gone into his head. Intending to leave at once, he stood up but then his left shoulder stiffened painfully. A grunt escaped him before he was able to stop it as his other hand wandered up to the sore area. Blasted.. When he was fighting the waves, he badly pulled something in his shoulder and in addition to an old wound he'd suffered years ago in Seheron fighting with a Tevinter Magister it was getting unbearable sometimes. Even without attention it would eventually pass but alas, not for long.

"Is he alright?"

Hawke's voice suddenly rung out, directed to Isabela as he seized at the dull ache, hunched over the table. Isabela was looking up at him with uncertainty, her brass-colored eyes silently asking what happened. Taashath, trying his best not to look at Hawke,  _ especially _ the same way he had seconds ago, pointed at the reason of his stalling and she immediately understood. But the evil glint in her eye was heralding only trouble.

"Just an old injury. He could probably use a massage."

That he could indeed. It might give him few days without any problems. At first he wasn't sure where she was going with it. But when she spoke again all he knew that he wants to strangle her and then  _ get out. _

"Hawke, could you do me a favor? You're better at this than I am.."

_No. NO._ He thought in panic and looked spitefully at Isabela who gave him a thumb up and mouthed "You'll thank me later". And he _couldn't_ say _anything_ not to give himself out. Oh, yes he definitely was. Not in the way she expects but _yes indeed. That's what I get for trusting a thief._ At Hawke's response he felt blood drain from his face.

"Sure, I suppose."

"Thanks, Miriam!"

Isabela patted Taashath on the back and left with a devilish grin of her face. For just a moment he regretted ever listening to her and agreeing to aid her in any way. The devious, little basra.. Words couldn't describe the frustration bubbling up from the pit of his stomach. If only the looks could kill, he thought as he glared at Isabela's back as she headed upstairs.

"Come on, big guy. I don't have a whole night."

Hawke chirped as she struggled to get to the first floor with her crutches being more of an inconvenience than an actual help.  _ Marvelous.  _ He thought with a sour wince on his face but he sighed and silently followed Hawke upstairs to the room she booked for him anyway. He could've just left at this point but he had to admit that his shoulder really needed attention. It was getting worse with each time he moved it. It's been a while since he had it looked at. So he was going to be alone with her after all.. But then again, who is he to deny a well needed treatment?

* * *

The sleeping chamber wasn't very spacious as it was made for humans and occasionally dwarves or elves. It was a simple room with a bed, a cabinet where an oil lamp was standing, a small fireplace, and a single window looking out onto the slumbering city. The bed was a little smaller than he would've liked but again, this was a room for a human-sized person, not a Qunari. He'll have to just deal with it somehow. Hawke sat down on the bed putting the crutches aside and looked at the ashen-skinned giant lingering on the doorstep and still avoiding her eyes.  _ Eerie. _ . Even with the mask on, it was clear that he felt rather uncomfortable in her presence, she'd seen it before at the table but she didn't know why. Perhaps he simply preferred Isabela's company. It would come as no surprise considering Isabela has been the only person he could trust for the past week. With a nod she invited him inside and he, even if hesitantly, stepped into the room and at her instruction he removed his sword and stiffly sat down cross-legged on the floor before her to give her access to his sore muscles.

As Miriam quietly reached for the end of his cowl to take it off, his heart that was already hammering against his ribcage was sent into frenzy. He involuntarily inhaled the smell of her hair but definitely didn't regret that. Aside from blood on the bandages, he sensed the scent of this purple flower she loved so much. A lavender, she called it. There was no such plant anywhere in Par Vollen. She carried that scent in her clothes, on her skin every time she came to him and up to this point he hardly even realised how he missed that smell.. This alone partially soothed him and took most of the unease away as his heart ceased the mad drumming to return to the steady rhythm. Only to resume with doubled ferocity when her fingers brushed against the back of his neck and the familiar tingling sensation coursed through him.

The crimson cloth was removed and folded neatly beside Hawke as she took a look at Taashath's shoulder. A spike of dread stung her throat at the sight of a horrible scar running from the top of it to the section between his shoulder blade and spine. He had many scars, she realised, but this one was arguably the worst of them all. An image of a ragged, badly healing wound has sprung into her mind making her shudder. It looked like a clawmark or a wound made by some blade at the first glance but the lighter, taut skin on the edges of this scar suggested a nasty burn made by fire or even acid.  _ Magic _ , she thought. She wondered if someone else's or his own.. That would explain much. It's been a while since she's done that. Her fingers gently rested on his warm skin and she saw him jerk a little, probably because her hands were colder than his body. Muttering a half-hearted apology, she began to work. Hawke started kneading his shoulder, rubbing at the old scar tissue to ease the aching. It felt like she'd done it merely yesterday, her hands moved on instinct. After a minute or so, she felt the tension recede as he exhaled with clear relief.

To be perfectly honest, Taashath did not expect the whole interaction to be so pleasant. The touch of Hawke's cool fingertips has already alleviated some of the ache. He'd had such an action performed by one of the priestesses when he suffered from similar pains back in Seheron but this was nothing like it. The priestess was simply doing her job, trying to take as little of his precious time as possible. Hawke on the other hand was patient and gentle, calmly humming to herself a foreign song unknown to his kind. She was enjoying this probably as much as he was. Perhaps Isabela was right and he  _ should _ thank her later after all? He let his eyes close as he relished in the moment. It's been a long time since he felt truly at peace..

Hawke hummed partially to try and make the Qunari feel easier and partially to fill the silence that fell when the bards had retired to their separate rooms as well. It was a song Leandra used to sing to Miriam in her childhood whenever she was having nightmares. A song about darkness and hope that always comes even after the most dire moments. It would always soothe her fears and lull her back to sleep. "The dawn will come". She had no idea if the song was helping _ him _ but it was certainly helping  _ her. _ Bringing back the memories of her no longer existing home in Lothering and her whole family. Her father Malcolm, Carver, Bethany.. She missed them

And then there it was.

A quiet at first but slowly gaining in strength, constant and deep thrumming resonating from within Taashath's massive chest, spreading through his body and into her hands, reaching into her very core. The odd sound was akin to the sounds cats make when they're happy or relaxed. Hawke nearly snorted when she realised that this huge, horned man whose race common folk call cold blooded murderers, uncivilized monsters, heathens and Maker knows what else was..

"Wait, are you purring?"

Much to her disappointment the sound promptly ceased as though it was something to be ashamed of. Perhaps it was, she didn't know  _ that  _ much about the Qunari, never claimed to. She once asked Fenris how to recognise if a Qunari is pleased or angered when they aren't keen on speaking their mind to make interacting with not-exactly-chatty-yet Arishok easier and he never mentioned the purring. Perhaps even he didn't know. Hawke almost, just almost laughed at the mere thought of  _ the Arishok _ purring. Taashath slightly turned his head to the side to look at Hawke out of the corner of his eye. She grinned but didn't stop kneading. That was certainly unexpected. She knew that Qunari to some extent are bestial in nature, hence the horns, claws and sharp teeth that could bite even through metal if they are stubborn enough. The way they growl when they're angry and savagely roar in battle could bring even a young dragon to mind. They're certainly as fierce as dragons themselves. Hawke could say this, having slain a couple of dragons before and battled the Arishok himself. Half of her wondered if dragons purr as well..

"I didn't even know Qunari can do that."

In spite of himself, Taashath allowed himself for a small smile when he made the soft vibration in his chest dissipate as though it was never there. It went just a tiny little bit too far and too a little too soon.. He'd already known that Hawke is affecting him in some bizarre way whenever she's close, whenever she touches him but that was new. At first he couldn't deny that he was terrified of whatever that was she awoke in his once ice cold heart. Mostly because he was nothing but confused by it but he also feared what fate this would bring him should his people ever find out. But now she'd shown him that there's nothing to fear as everything that could've happened in consequence was now his past. A past that will never return. No one becomes a Tal-Vashoth and returns to the Qun the way he or she used to be. And for some reason, it didn't bother him as much as it did few days ago. If he hadn't followed the demands of the Qun blindly as he did, if he hadn't let his anger take the better of him and cloud his judgment there would be no reason for hiding behind this wretched mask. He nearly chuckled. For thoughts like this he would've been taken by the Ben-Hassrath straight away for reeducation. It was oddly satisfying to be out of their reach, with no threat from their agents. There was never a doubt in his mind that the spies would attempt to seek him out eventually. The Arishok joining the soulless fiends was a real threat in their eyes and he could hardly blame them. He will have to be careful from now on. One misstep might cost him either his life or freedom. He felt Hawke's hands (sadly) retract allowing him to move his shoulder and to his surprise there was no stiffness, no pain whatsoever. He should've asked Hawke for this favor months ago..

"Done. Better now?"

_ Better indeed.  _ Hawke was certainly good at this, just like Isabela mentioned. He shifted himself on the floor to face her. This wasn't half as bad as he suspected it to be. "You'll thank me later" Isabela said. And it frustrated him to admit that she was right. She knew what she was doing. Taashath wondered more than once how Isabela intended to aid him in making up with Hawke. Isabela didn't lie to him that she could help him, even though it took so much sneaking and bluffing. Bloody pirate. And in return she wanted him to kill a man? Odd, but he wasn't complaining. A month ago he would've never suspected he'd end up in a situation like that. And yet here he was, looking at the woman for whom he left all that he used to be behind and risked his life, feeling more in this moment than any of his people ever had in their lives. And she was looking at him. Her bright eyes and peaceful smile reminded him of the woman who raised him. There wasn't much he remembered about her but all memories that remained were nothing but fond. Young tamassran was always kind to him and his peers, sometimes sneaking fruits for them and never turning away from their needs but somehow she was the most caring of _ him  _ in particular. When he left her as a teenager to join the Antaam as it was meant for him, she'd promised never to forget the child he used to be and given him a golden earring to remember her by. The same earring that was adorning his ear in this very moment, one of the last parts of his old self he decided to keep. The day he'd become the Arishok was the proudest moment of her life, he could see it in her eyes as she watched from afar. Hawke smiled just like the tamassran.. He wondered if the woman is still alive. If so, then she's most likely very disappointed.. The imekari she'd raised, who she'd cared about, who had climbed so high in the hierarchy had fallen from the very top to the very bottom. If there's anything he truly regrets, it's letting his caretaker down like this. Hawke was so similar to her.. And he failed her as well.. No, he will never let Miriam down again. That he swears. He wanted to be honest with her. He wanted to cast the mask off, say something, anything.. But it was still too early for this. Wounds need more time to heal. He'll tell her later.. Wanting to express his gratitude for her services and.. pretty much everything, Taashath did the only thing he could think of that didn't involve any words but to the Qunari it was sometimes more than any words could ever express. He bowed his head and waited. And oddly enough, he soon felt Hawke's forehead connect with his as she repeated his movements. The elf Fenris must've taught her more about the Qunari ways than she was letting on. That's good. Perhaps it will help them understand each other better. They both stood up and watched one another for a moment before Hawke nodded respectfully.

"Goodnight to you."

The door quietly closed behind her as she left him to his own devices. Once he was sure she was out of the earshot, he whispered to himself

"And to you, Serah Hawke."

He extinguished the flame in the lamp, bathing his chamber in utter darkness and collapsed into the soft sheets of his bed to rest with a satisfied sigh. This was a good step towards earning Hawke's forgiveness and winning her trust back. If she had no objections as to being left alone with him, then perhaps there's still a chance. The sweet smell of lavender, which she left in her wake, was still hanging in the air long after she'd left as he stared up at the ceiling and soon it caused his eyes to grow heavy until the sleep had taken him. It came to him as no surprise however, that the moment his eyes slipped shut, just like every night after he left, he was greeted by the image of restless ocean and all he could hear was the roar of the waves and sorrowful howling of the winds surrounding him as far as his sights could reach..


	6. Asala-taar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The great Qunari warlord finally snaps after under the influence of panic he unwittingly does something he regrets later. Isabela, a friend, trusted him with her life. And he'd failed her..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, there are going to be some naughty jokes and thoughts in here. Where Isabela is it can't go without dirty subtexts am I right? XD
> 
> Also...
> 
> This chapter is going to get a bit dark later on. You've been warned.

Once the first light of dawn had surfaced shyly over the horizon, Isabela suddenly woke up. A week spent with the former Arishok had her getting up much earlier than she would have liked to as he himself was an early riser. The first few days were full of complaining from her whenever he insisted to get moving, saying something about losing daylight. After a single warning Taashath was always giving her a minute to get up and trying to argue or ignore him usually ended with a handful of freezing cold water being poured onto her head and it would force her into consciousness every time, no matter how sleepy she was. Eventually she got used to this and intent on avoiding a morning shower she would always get up almost at the same time he would, even if it pissed her off at this given moment. It was still awfully early and yet any remnants of sleep were already gone with no intention of returning. Bloody Qunari.. She stretched to get her blood flowing back into her numb body parts and slipped her bare feet into her boots. Despite the early hour, she felt great. Perhaps getting up early had its pluses after all.. Hawke and Varric were certainly still salivating their pillows so it was an excellent moment to leave the inn and look for any signs of Castillon and his mercenaries searching for her. A month ago she wouldn't have ever expected to be doing this but having a Big Lord of Angry Oxmen as her personal bodyguard until Castillon is dealt with was rather reassuring. If Castillon wants her, he can kiss a high dragon's ass. It would be just as wise and effective. After quietly brushing her hair, she adjusted her belt, scribbled a short note with a vague explanation as to her whereabouts in case Hawke came looking for her and snuck towards Taashath's room to collect him. 

Unsurprisingly, she found him already awake, sitting cross legged on the floor and facing the window already with his braided hair pulled up into a ponytail and all of his equipment sitting beside him ready to be put on, even the mask that rested on the top of the bundle. His even breathing seemed terribly loud in the silence of the empty tavern. The moment she stepped into the room, she noticed his ear move in her direction. She blinked in surprise as she was pretty sure she made absolutely no sounds. She knew that Qunari have an excellent hearing but _that_ much?

"Speak your mind, human."

He murmured. The fact that he spoke to her meant that he without looking knew who he's dealing with. Otherwise he would have remained silent. It was.. baffling at least if not simply remarkable.

"How do you-"

The rest of the sentence escaped her as he had trouble with wrapping her head around it. He heaved a long sigh and spoke to her, not even bothering to look her way.

"I know your footsteps, thief. Why do you interrupt my meditations?"

Her awe didn't last long. The fact that he never used her name was so infuriating that Isabela actually forgot why she was here in the first place. She closed the door to at least partially dull out the sounds of their talking. She circled him and looked at him with her arms crossed. Even while sitting he wasn't far below her and his head was nearly on the level of hers.

"Why do you keep calling me 'thief'?"

His falcon-like eyes stared at her without passion or interest but even at this angle she couldn't miss the dark bruises underneath, signifying a mostly restless night or a complete lack of proper night's sleep. If he'd spent it on sitting here in one place without moving then he has a patience of an angel. Funny, considering that with those horns he resembles a devil more than anything.

"This is what you are."

"But I have a _name_ I keep reminding you about. Use it."

She challenged but got no reaction from him. He neither stood up nor changed the calm look on his face before closing his eyes again.

"In time I will. Now answer my question."

 _Right._ Isabela nearly smacked herself in the face. Those pointless arguments were getting her nowhere and snapping at the stubborn Kossith might as well last until everyone wakes up and her idea fails before she'd even managed to speak up. She wasn't going to win this anyway.

"I wanted to poke around the docks and see if Castillon still cares that I gave him a middle finger. The faster we get this done, the faster I get to sleep peacefully.."

".. and you want me to ensure your safety."

He finished the sentence for her. It was less of a question and more of an observation but that was exactly what she was asking of him.

"Exactly."

"And what about Hawke?"

"I don't want to involve her while she's injured."

Understandable. In her condition Hawke would only be a burden. Endangering her also seemed like a poor idea. Taashath looked at Isabela and pulled himself up to his feet with a grumble. He'd promised her.. and his kind never goes back on given promises. There was that, and despite his initial contempt for Isabela because of the whole story with the sacred tome, he really didn't want her to die anymore. Not after everything she'd done for him so far. He owed her his life after all. Even though it went against his former beliefs, she'd proven.. a friend. _Friendship. What an odd concept.._

"Bad night, huh?"

Her voice chimed as he draped his crimson scarf around his neck. Was it that obvious? There was no denying that and even if he tried, the shadows under his eyes certainly showed. Taashath sighed and continued to gather his belongings.

" 'Bad' is a very loose term.."

He remembers waking up in cold sweat not long after he'd fallen asleep. The nightmares have been troubling him ever since he'd landed back on the shore of Free Marches but they have become much worse this time. For a moment it was so vivid, he thought he will really suffocate this time. To say that a night when he was drowning all over again, feeling the last bits of the air slip out from him as the water filled him and pulled him deeper and deeper until he couldn't see anything was "bad" would be a serious understatement. The sea held him firmly in its merciless grip and just when he thought it was all over his eyes opened to the sight of wooden ceiling of the room he'd slept in and the air sharply rushed back into his lungs. His neck was sore from few hours of lying in a rather uncomfortable position as the bed he was given wasn't exactly accustomed to suit a person with horns but that was not what he was worried about. Taashath scarcely ever dreamt but when he did it was nothing like this. Even when he had nightmares, they were never this troublesome to him but dying again and again in his sleep for the past week did the trick just fine. So saying it was _"bad"_ failed to describe half of it.

"Very.. _very loose_ term.."

"Care to elaborate?"

Isabela asked but _no,_ he did _not_ want to clarify this for her. There was no point to this conversation and he wanted it to end.

"Parshaara! I do not wish to speak of this. We keep your merchant waiting."

An irritated huff was everything she had to say to this. Fine, if he doesn't want to talk about what kept him up then so be it. Qunari can be insufferable sometimes. Isabela could take a guess and think of some reasons of his exhausted looks.. A small chuckle formed in Isabela's stomach but she knew better than to let it out when a dirty thought of Hawke doing something _else_ aside from relieving him of his shoulder pains treacherously crept into the forefront of her mind. It most likely wasn't the case as she probably would've heard if something.. interesting or undesirable happened in this room because of the mild paranoia Castillon has incited upon her which even in her sleep made her always wary but the mere thought was hilarious in itself. That would never work with the- He's twice as big as Hawke is, that could end poorly if not fatally. Unless.. If Taashath knew what Isabela was thinking about, he'd probably tear her arms off or at the very least break some bones. Biting down on her lip she stifled back the laughter and turned to leave, trying to force the image out from her brain. But to her surprise, a firm grip of a clawed hand on her shoulder halted her.

"I have failed to thank you.."

"Hmm?"

Her composure returned when she finally pushed the naughty thoughts out of her mind and looked back at her companion with eyebrows raised in a silent question. His face still gave out nothing.

"You dragged me onto the shore, even if you didn't have to."

Isabela snorted. She _really_ wanted to tell him that it was just Hawke's influence and that he should be thanking her instead but it wouldn't be exactly the most truthful answer and definitely not what he wished to hear from her. Choosing her words carefully, she answered

"Whatever happens now, we're in this mess together. You promised me aid so you're not dying if I have a say in that."

"And for that I'm grateful."

He kept her in place for few more seconds before his hand returned to his side. Without a word he reached for his mask and set it in its place, the sword soon following. When he was ready, Isabela nodded towards the door.

"Let's go then."

"Lead on."

To be honest, Isabela has been waiting for this. She knew that she did the right thing by pulling him out from the water but now he only confirmed it and at the same time surprised her that a "thank you" even came out of his mouth so smoothly as after the last few days she wasn't sure she'll live to see and hear this. If a year ago someone had told her that she'd become friends with the Arishok, she would've laughed at them and called them a madman if not worse. _And look at me now._ She smirked. No regrets.

Quietly as a cat not to wake anyone, Isabela walked downstairs, ignoring the protests of her empty stomach (she'll buy something on her way through the town). And to her surprise they got out without making any noise. She underestimated Taashath's abilities to move silently. Back on the ship she was pretty sure sneaking past the sentries will be complete and utter failure with how enormous he is, even with the storm raging overhead and she didn't even bother to look back at him but everything turned out just fine. Well, except for that incident with both of them nearly dying a horrible death but that's not the point. Not that she complained about this, it would only help. Though, along with the fact that he could recognise her by the sound of her bloody _footsteps_ it was honesty a little unsettling. Well, at least she could feel relatively safe in his company. She had her doubts that anyone, no matter how well paid or plain _stupid,_ would reconsider attempting to apprehend her after seeing this hulking mountain of a man beside her, especially because the trauma after Qunari attack was still fresh. It might take years for people to stop shitting themselves at the sight of any Kossith, Tal-Vashoth or Qunari. It doesn't matter, the race is still the same and the prejudice has never been worse in Kirkwall than now. The air was still a bit frigid when they walked out, the rather strong gusts of wind seemingly decreasing the air temperature further, and the sky had this pinkish hue of the approaching sunrise to it. Small clouds, grey against it were slowly moving over their heads. A gentle veil of morning mist slithered across the ground between the buildings as they walked through the Lowtown. Leaving the Hanged Man behind, they both headed towards the docks.

* * *

Kirkwall was slowly waking up as they walked through the still empty streets. The harsh, chilling wind that dispersed the morning fog and tugged sharply at their clothes brought dark clouds up from behind the horizon, heralding the approaching rainstorm. People seemed to understand this as they mostly stayed home and those who traded for living were preparing their stands for the downpour by pulling additional, heavier cloth over them to keep their merchandise dry, safe from the moody weather.

Still, there were no signs of the people seeking to assault or kidnap Isabela. This didn't mean they should be less vigilant, absolutely not. Before leaving for the docks, Isabela approached one of the trading posts to buy something for breakfast, telling Taashath to wait for her by the corner. He did so gladly (he wasn't fond of dealing with basra), leaning against the wall of one of the buildings and watching her go in case something unexpected happened. _Funny.._ He thought. Isabela was a thief who'd convinced him to cast away the life he valued, everything that was important to him, his honor and dignity. And most importantly, the teachings of the Qun and by all accounts he should hate her just like he did at first but after all this time spent with her.. he couldn't. Seeing her everyday not as an enemy but as a trusted companion changed his point of view quite drastically. Isabela might be a bad person, foolhardy and overconfident but he couldn't help it that he saw her as one of his own. She had earned the ounce of respect that he had for her.

He watched Isabela buy some bread and fruits, haggling with the shopkeepers (of course, why wouldn't she?) but the wind wasn't doing her much favor with how it was tangling her hair and tossing it over her face and into her mouth whenever she tried to speak. Eventually she had to stuff it behind the collar of her shirt for the time being to keep it still. It hadn't even occurred to him when he'd let his thoughts wander back to the previous night with Hawke. To the memories of her cold fingers on his skin, the lavender smell slithering into his nostrils. There was something more than respect he'd felt and he knew it even as he stood above her with bloodied weapons, watching her slip away. Otherwise she'd be dead right now. He still had no idea what this feeling was, what to think. Living under the strict rules of the Qun he never experienced any feelings from the moment he stepped out from under tamassran's wing and it was longer ago than he wished to admit. This single, alien emotion was pushing him forward and affecting his actions in ways he couldn't always fathom until it was too late and all he felt was confusion. If Miriam was a mage, he would've said that she'd cursed him with this one wretched thought that was slowly gnawing away inside. Bit after bit destroying him. He had questions, craved answers and Hawke was the only person who could give them. But the moment she sat behind him, touched him and her humming reached his ears he desired them no more. That was all he required. No answers were needed anymore. Hawke was the answer he sought and when she was close.. it was enough. It sounded almost strangely _well_ in his mind. He could use it. _That_ is what he's going to say when he finally reveals himself and if she ever asks him why he decided to return. He would've asked Isabela for an advice as she is far more experienced in those regions but something was holding him back. She pointed out that he grew fond of Hawke so it would come as no surprise to her but he was still reluctant to speak to her about it. It was none of her concern.

Taashath's musings were unexpectedly interrupted by a hand being placed over his mouth as he was pulled back into the side alley with surprising strength. So lost in thought he was that he didn't notice someone approaching from behind. Fully prepared to defend himself, Taashath clenched his fists to lash out on his would-be assailant when his back slammed against a wall and the hand along with the other one moved to the cowl around his neck. He was expecting an assassin or a thug trying to take him out in order to get to Isabela without issues or even a Ben-Hassrath agent (which honestly made him more than uncomfortable) so imagine his shock when he stood face to face with the pale Tal-Vashoth from the Hanged Man. There had to be a reason why he was staring so much. If he was a spy, it wouldn't have been this obvious that he has something against Taashath. That was something personal. He remembered the dwarf Varric mention the name. _Maraas._ An unusual choice but fitting.

"What game are you playing at?"

Even without the whole brutal manhandling, it was clear that the fellow Kossith was rather hostile. But fortunately not hostile enough for Taashath to be picking up his bowel from the floor. He sneered at Maraas and let a threatening growl build up in his chest in case he reconsidered just bashing Taashath's face in.

" _Clarify._ "

He demanded. The iron grip Maraas had on his scarf did not loosen when he glared with clear contempt in his eyes and his teeth bared in a feral snarl.

"I know who you are, don't think I had forgotten, Arishok."

 _Well, isn't that a comforting thought._ Taashath grumbled. Just what he needed. A nosy bastard ready and more than glad to share the news with anyone. But if he'd wanted people around to see the truth, he would've made sure everyone finds out already. Taashath didn't fight back, honestly curious as to why Maraas followed them all the way here. Not to beat him up because of boredom, that's for certain.

"You're spying on the Champion."

So that's what they call Hawke these days.. _Interesting._ He wondered how she'd earned this title. Surely not by defeating him, he almost chuckled. Incredible, how fast humans' pathetic sense of humor passed onto him. And what's even more incredible, was that Maraas cared what happens to this so-called Champion.

"Do I now? Curious."

Maraas growled as his hands dangerously tightened on the fabric of his scarf. He can't have expected _this_ to scare the Arishok and he probably wasn't even trying but he wanted to make himself clear.

"She is an honorable one and you know it. If you _are_ spying on her, I'm going to personally break your horns off and shove them up your arse. Does my _clarification_ satisfy you?"

"It does."

With one tug Taashath freed himself from the grasp of the pale Kossith and gave him the most murderous glare he was capable of, receiving one in return. Maraas gave him a firm nod along with the look saying "I'm watching you" and left as suddenly as he appeared without any other word. _Brave move, fiend._ Taashath mused, shaking off his scarf. If he didn't care about the commotion it would create, he would've probably simply cut off Maraas' head but that would only draw unnecessary attention. The assault didn't scare him, though he was honesty relieved to see it was _not_ a Ben-Hassrath agent (that would kind of ruin his day to put it lightly), but he had to admit he didn't see it coming. Hawke made much more allies than he'd suspected. It's not hard to impress a rogue Tal-Vashoth but earning one's respect was equally as hard as earning the respect of a true Qunari. Tal-Vashoth might prove just as stubborn if not more than them. They are all the same race after all.

It didn't take long for Isabela to come back from shopping and press a small bundle into his hands. She herself sat down on nearby bench and opened her own to extract bread, an apple and a piece of dried meat. The contents of his bundle were exactly the same. Well, what harm could it do to have a short break? He dropped next to her and took care of his breakfast in few bites. If the fruit was dried, it would feel like in the war zone in Seheron where there wasn't anything else to eat than the dried rations evenly distributed between the soldiers. Despite the unpleasant memories, it was undoubtedly much better to look for bloodthirsty mercenaries with full stomach. There needed to be no words spoken between Taashath and Isabela for them to agree when it was the time to move on.

It was strange to walk around the docks, see the familiar yet foreign places around and pass by the now empty Compound which was full of Qunari merely days ago. It was almost like he could hear their voices again, see them passing through like every day for years now. And there he was, standing on the top and commanding them all. Was this person even him anymore? Strange indeed.. Still, people avoided the place like fire, sealed it away as though they were saying "we will never speak of this again". A waste of resources and space if someone asked him. A soft clap of thunder rolled overhead when the first drops of rain have fallen. Most of the Kirkwallers retreated into their houses as the slight drizzle gradually turned into a downpour.

"Awe, really?"

Isabela threw her hands up in annoyance when in merely a couple of seconds they were both soaking wet. It almost felt too similar to the day they decided to stick together. Taashath was used to rain and didn't mind the cold weather as much as humans did but after the whole drowning thing he felt like he'd seen enough water to suffice for the rest of his life. He shared her irritation at the nature messing with them wherever they went.

"No point in staying here. There's a back alley here leading to the Darktown. There's less wet there."

Isabela murmured grumpily and took a turn downstairs to the said alley. Good thinking, even if at some point there were mercenaries here, they weren't paid for standing in rain and expecting Isabela to show up. They'd sooner die from severe pneumonia in weather like this and no money can meet the value of life and health. Taashath followed, as always, down the carved steps towards the alley right above the sea level.

And then he stopped. Captivated by the uneasy water just below him, merely inches away. The darkness underneath his feet seemed alive, beckoning him and calling. It took a moment for him to realise that this odd, yet familiar feeling grasping at his hastening heart was fear. The wind howled ominously and threw one of the waves against the bank, sending the water shooting upwards towards him like grasping hands. Reaching for his legs to clasp around his ankles, drag and pull him under to finish what has been started. Kill. He couldn't move. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, as though the bottomless abyss below him had already encapsulated him. Venomous whispers slithered right into his ears from all sides and from nowhere at the same time. _~~**Let the water fill you**~~_. _No._ Shielded from the constant rain he now could feel a drop of sweat rolling down his nose. ~~_**You belong with us**_~~. The abyss hissedbelow, beckoning, calling. _No, I don't._ He gasped with difficulty, the horror had sunk its talons into his lungs. _What's happening?!_ ~~_**Struggle is an illusion**_~~. _NO!_

Isabela nearly jumped out of her leather boots when she heard a crash of some crates being knocked aside behind her. Fully expecting to see someone rushing over to attack her she whipped around with her daggers drawn and was rendered absolutely dumbstruck by the sight of Taashath tripping over the offending crates and falling to the ground to scramble away from the edge falling into the sea. _What._

"Uh. You okay?"

He only stopped backing away when his back met with a wall. Isabela slowly approached him, more than slightly unsettled by his behavior. What could he have seen down there to act like this? His breath was rapid and shallow as he lifted his hands to his face, shaking as though he was struck by ice spell. Curled up in the corner he seemed three times smaller than he truly was, terrified and trembling. Unresponsive.

"Taashath. What's wrong with you?"

Nothing. He kept his face in his hands as his breath turned into labored gasps. Isabela crouched before him, trying to get through to him but without much success. This panic attack was completely unexpected, he'd been doing perfectly fine thirty seconds ago. Annoyed and concerned, she placed her hand on one of his knees tucked up to his chest.

" _Hey!_ Can you-"

This was the last thing she remembered before a blinding pain flashed white from the side of her head and everything went quiet and dark as she felt her shoulder impact with the floor.

Taashath blinked a couple times to chase the dark spots swirling before his eyes away and he breathed deeper, the overwhelming terror slowly abandoning him. What _was_ that? For a moment he felt this ancient and primal fear known to all living creatures settle in the pit of his stomach and paralyze him. He'd never felt anything so powerful get a hold of him as he stared into the depths of the sea once again. He'd never feared death. But this was something entirely different. Falling in battle was an honor, a sacrifice for the greater good of his people and this thought never scared him. And yet he was horrified of dying by drowning. He felt the cold clutches of death grasp his throat once more when he looked down into the waters below. His eyes wandered to his raised hand balled into a fist so tight that he could feel the skin on his palm concede under the pressure of the sharp tips of his claws. _What.._ And then down to a body lying at his feet. His heart leapt to his throat when he realised it was Isabela. Her eyes closed, mouth slightly ajar.. a narrow trickle of blood rolling down her temple.

"Human.?"

His voice cracked as though it hasn't been used for ages when his fist relaxed and he reached for her. _I promised to keep her safe.._ This short moment of weakness was enough. Taashath nudged her gently but there was no resistance under his touch as she limply rolled to her back.

" _Isabela_."

The name didn't have the desired effect. She remained motionless. Still as a corpse.. He swallowed thickly and placed two fingers on her neck. The rhythmic throbbing under them was hardly a relief. What happened? Carefully, he slipped one hand under Isabela's knees and rested the other on her back pulling her to his arms, cradling her like a child. She weighed next to nothing to him. The foreign word that he heard so often around him from mouths of humans, elves and dwarves around him came to him. He finally understood its meaning. _Friend.._ He looked around in search for an attacker. Who- Taashath froze. It all started to make a horrible, horrible sense. The panic attack he'd just come through.. That would explain the nightmares and the memories haunting him. When he still served in the Antaam, he'd seen soldiers falling apart, panicking in random moments and often striking their comrades in fits of anger. It was a disease, a plague. _He_ was the attacker. _He_ hurt her when she trusted he would protect her. For years he thought himself too strong willed to succumb to this illness and yet it finally came to him. His time had come.. Asala-taar was not going to spare him. Not this time.

Rushing through the whole Kirkwall was merely a glimpse of memory he didn't care to keep. He barely remembered that aghast elderly human he'd asked for the directions to Hawke's estate. Getting to safety was a priority, never mind what people think watching him carry an unconscious person through the town. Their glares bounced clear off of his back as he went. When he finally stood on the doorstep he didn't bother with a proper entry. His noisy arrival startled a man sitting on a coach in the next room. The familiar man with blonde hair and dressed in robes. Judging by a blanket pulled over his shoulders and a cup of steaming tea, coffee or whatever it was in his hands as well as an unhealthy paleness of his face, he was recovering from some nasty illness. Or maybe the the pale color was just a result of fear Taashath had accidentally induced. Anders (if he remembered correctly) jumped and almost spilled the contents of his cup all over his lap as a flash of ghostly blue light passed through his wide eyes. The mabari that was sleeping by the fire immediately jerked awake and started furiously barking at the intruder.

"Hawke? Either I'm hallucinating again or a gigantic Qunari just barraged through the front door, you may want to look into that!"

The mage called apparently distressed, not taking his eyes off of Taashath. Soon few people appeared on the balcony above the main room. Two dwarves, one with auburn hair and beard, the other with short fair hair and big disturbingly empty blue eyes, and two women, one of whom was Miriam. They all looked equally startled as Anders, except for the woman with grey hair and slight wrinkles carved into her face as she was much more frightened.

"What the hell, Taashath? You could've just knocked!"

Hawke scolded before horror passed through her features at the sight of Isabela dangling from his arms. Taashath knew he should say something, explain but he didn't even know what. There was no justification for his deed. He felt nothing but regret burning in his insides.

"Isabela!"

Hawke made it downstairs and to his side in few long strides as oddly enough she didn't need to use the crutches anymore. She was still limping a little but aside from that her leg seemed alright. She generally seemed alright. The pure horror in Hawke's shining eyes struck him like a blade into his heart when she took Isabela from him. Anders rose to his feet as well and quickly set his cup aside to help Hawke. A gentle light dancing before his palms produced warmth, just enough to dry Isabela's clothes when Hawke lowered her to the couch. The look she gave Taashath was just like the one back when he chased her out of his camp moments before ordering his men to attack Kirkwall. Just as sad and just as broken.. The older woman quickly moved to another room and came back with a handful of bandages while Hawke kept staring at Taashath.

"What happened?"

 _I have failed you again._ He looked down and shook his head, unable to look her in the eye. He'd broken his promise and failed Isabela's trust. Hawke fisted through her hair trying to think of something as Anders investigated Isabela for injuries with his magic.

"Do you know sign language?"

_Negative._

"Can you write in common?!"

The answer was unfortunately "no" yet again. As the Arishok he'd learned to speak the common language fluently to make it easier to communicate with outlanders as even elves and dwarves preferred it these days but he'd never felt the need to learn to write or read it. Not that he had time for it with how many duties he had. Not many in his homeland possessed such skills, too. He could write Qunlat but he doubted that Hawke can read it. She knew some words and how to speak them but reading was something entirely new. Not that any of this mattered. He had nothing to say about it.

"Damn it! Where is Fenris when in need him?!"

"Probably at home, brooding.."

Anders commented as he finished his work and dressed the wound on Isabela's temple with the help of the gray-haired woman who Taashath assumed to be Hawke's mother. The Bas Saarebas placed his hand on Hawke's shoulder to comfort her, a sympathetic expression washing over his face.

"She's in no danger, Hawke. Whatever hit her knocked her out and that about it."

Hawke cried out in relief at the news. She'd just got her friend back, it's too early for losing her again. Taashath released a breath he's been holding since he entered this household. At least she was safe. This is exactly why those suffering from the soul sickness should retire to work as farmers, priests or anywhere where they pose no threat to the people around them. Anders looked at him then, scanning him from head to toe where a puddle had formed from all the water that soaked into his clothes. His eyes betrayed uncertainty and a slight hint of annoyance (possibly because of the incident with the door) but nothing more.

"You should introduce me to your new friend sometime. Scared the crap out of me.."

With that, Hawke slowly approached Taashath and reached out towards his wrist when she noticed drops of blood seeping through the fingers of his clenched fist.

"Are you hurt?"

Her fingertips brushed against his arm only just but Taashath jerked away as though her touch had severely burned him. What is she trying to do? She has no idea but in this state he could just as easily harm her too and he wouldn't be able to take it were he to ever hurt her again. The image of her splayed out on the floor pale and bloodied was too much for him to bear. The slightly puzzled look on Hawke's face didn't make it any easier but he knew he shouldn't be here any longer. He'd broken his word, his promise, lost the last bits of his honor, there's nothing for him here. With heavy heart, he took one step back when Miriam insisted. For the last time he looked at Isabela resting on the coach. She'll be safe here.. Then he turned on his heel and booked it for the door, hearing Hawke call to the mage in panic

"Wait! Anders, do something!"

When he was right by the door, a circle made of shimmering patterns materialized under his feet and he promptly lost feeling in his legs, stumbling forward as the numbness began to creep up his body but he couldn't stop now. There's no reason for him to stay here. Not even Hawke could keep him there.. He shrugged it off and blindly rushed outside into the rain, heading towards the city gates to get as far away from here as he could. The rain hacked at him mercilessly but he didn't stop, pushing the guards by the gate aside and running towards the woods, ignoring their shouts behind his back.

* * *

How long has he been he running? Hard to say.. He stopped on a small glade in the middle of the forest only after his legs refused to carry him any further and he collapsed onto his knees in the soft, wet soil. Turning his eyes to the weeping skies letting its tears roll down his face like his own, he took a breath and cried out in despair. The roar that left his throat carried through the forest with a powerful echo of the pain that was slowly killing him from the inside out for way too long now. He screamed and screamed until he ran out of air and could scream no more and fell forward, curling up on the ground. _Asala-taar…_ After all this time and after he'd failed his brethren this was what finally broke him.. How is this possible to suffer so when his soul has been long lost? This can't be.. Hesitantly, Taashath sat up, reached for the hilt of his sword and unsheathed it. He stared at the blade in his trembling hand, the reflection in it staring back at him. Whoever it was in the glistening surface of sharpened metal, he was dangerous to everyone around. Even those he had sworn to defend at all costs. Taashath couldn't allow it any longer. This man he was looking at was not the person he used to be. There was no one who could help him, no tammasran to cure or soothe him in his ailment. The only thing that could release him from this torment would be death. His keen gaze fell onto a plant growing a couple of feet away, with small leaves on long stems, and a single elongated head covered in tiny white flowers of sweet, sickening smell. He knew this one well. A Deathroot. Extremely poisonous. His heart quivered in his chest. Perhaps this was exactly what he should do? He'd sworn to protect Isabela and to never harm Hawke again. Getting up, he walked towards the flower with silent purpose. _I'll protect them._ He picked few leaves and knelt back down, jamming his sword into the ground beside him. He started whispering the prayer he memorized when he was still barely a child.

"Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit."

He slowly brought the leaves up to his lips as he continued to prey. What difference would it make? He was a dead man walking already anyway. _I'll protect them. Even from myself._

"Meraad itwasit, aban aqun.. Maraas shokra."

No more words were needed, the last line of the prayer on his tongue would be blasphemous. Even if he abandoned the Qun, he still respects it enough not to speak such heresies. Even without it though, the penalty for straying from the righteous path was death. It was time for his atonement. He winced as he chewed on the bitter herb, the lethal fluids of it spilling from the crushed leaves, numbing his tongue and gullet as he breathed deeply and swallowed. No turning back. It is done.

"Forgive me.."

He said into the air to nobody and everything that could hear him. And then he waited. Waited, after few minutes feeling weakness grip at his hands, at his heart that burned and raced in futile attempts to battle the poison, making it hard to breathe. The world started to swim before his eyes as the dizziness got a hold of him. Second after second he began to have trouble staying awake as the world slowly lost all colors. Between the trees some shadows passed by but he couldn't hear anything. He was most likely hallucinating at this point. His hand weakly gripped the hilt of his trusted weapon as he started to slip down towards the damp grass, losing his grip on life. A sweet metallic taste began to well up in his throat. Taashath wanted his last words to be in his own language, not the one of basra most of whom he detested his whole life and he coughed out along with blood that rolled down his chin before the rain washed it away

"Eba.. Ebost… isala…"

He could no longer feel the raindrops on his skin as shivers started to tug at his languishing body. The death was upon him, he was knocking on its doors but he felt he did good. He won't betray or hurt anyone ever again. Not her. Not Hawke. Never more.. This was the least he deserved and the least he could do. The dark figures he'd spotted between the trees before moved towards him but he didn't see them clearly as his eyelids grew too heavy to keep them open and he felt the cold ground against his cheek when he finally slipped into the void, anxious to welcome the sweet release.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to include some translation:
> 
> "Parshaara" - enough.  
> "Maraas" - nothing or alone.  
> "Eba ebost isala" - We return to dust.  
> "Shok ebasit hissra. Meraad astaarit. Meraad itwasit, aban aqun. Maraas shokra." - unfinished part of Qunari prayers for the dead. "Struggle is an illusion. The tide rises, the tide falls but the sea is changeless. There's nothing to struggle against."
> 
> Btw, sry for the cliffhanger XD


	7. Search party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With help of Fenris and Isabela, Hawke realises how dire the situation is. Gathering everyone available, she sets out into the city to search for the crazed Qunari. What they discover is.. disturbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go with another chapter. It took me a while to get this right but here it is.
> 
> I'm not going to update this for some time, I'm taking my exams tomorrow so sorry in advance. Wish me luck 😜

Like paralyzed, Hawke stared at the opened door and the rainy street of the Hightown beyond long after Taashath has disappeared from sight. There was something in her that scared him when she touched him and it hurt. Not even his mask was hiding the utter dismay on his face. She never gave him a reason to act in such way. It was almost as though he was repulsed by her but why? Damned Qunari can never make perfect sense..

"For as long as I live.."

She croaked as she hesitantly went to close the door.

"I will  _ never  _ understand Qunari."

"I mean, you do have  _ Fenris _ for that."

Anders chimed in and sat down on a free chair, a slight feverish shiver running through him as he finally found a moment to finish his tea. Even after six days he was still unwell. Recovering from severe overuse of magic is a long process, as Merril told her. Hawke trusted the elf on this as she was also a mage and surely knew much more about the subject than Miriam did. He was right. Fenris was an expert among them. Speaking of which..

"Bodahn?"

The dwarf with warm brown hair and braided beard came down from the first floor with his son Sandal who immediately ran up to Charlie to play with him.

"Yes, messere?"

"I know the weather is awful but I could use Fenris' advice. Could you please tell him to come over? Tell him it's important."

Bodahn nodded and walked up to the coat stand to collect his own and tossed it over his shoulders.

"Of course, Serah Hawke. I will be right back."

He said pulling the hood over his head.

"Thank you!"

Hawke answered. The grim song of the wind and rain rung out with doubled force when the door opened for few short moments and the dwarf merchant walked out to deliver a message to Fenris. He's sure going to be delighted to be called on such a lovely day. With a sigh, Hawke returned to Isabela's side. And to think that moments ago Miriam was wondering where Isabela had gone having left only a cryptic message saying

I'll be somewhere in town. Do not look for me, I'll come back. Promise.

Isabela

Well.. she  _ did  _ come back just not in a way Hawke would've liked her to. But what was the most unsettling, was that someone managed to get close enough to Isabela to strike her even with her Qunari companion still there. The pirate queen still remained unconscious, with a bandage wrapped around her head but her breathing was calm and even. A nasty bruise has already begun to surface underneath her skin right above her eyebrow.  _ This is going to turn into an ugly black eye..  _ Hawke thought with a wince. Anders possibly could have done something with this but aside from that Isabela was fine and he still needed his rest to fully recover. Isabela's going to be pissed when she wakes up. Leandra came over and took an empty cup from Anders' hands.

"Since you're expecting a guest, shall I make more tea?"

She asked. Orana, the elven servant, was still out there somewhere after she went to collect groceries but it wasn't surprising that she wasn't back yet. Most likely hid in the inn or somewhere else to wait until the weather turns more friendly to walks. Hawke exchanged glances with Anders who seemed more than okay with receiving another cup and she nodded. Might also be a helpful in soothing Fenris' ire after a wet walk through the Hightown.

"Yes, please. Thank you, mother."

"Don't worry, darling. It'll be alright."

She smiled and placed a small kiss on her daughter's forehead before retreating to the kitchen. In utter silence, they waited, either for Isabela to come back or for Fenris to appear grumbling on the threshold. None of those things were happening. The door remained closed, dulling out the tapping of raindrops on the cobblestone, Isabela remained motionless like a corpse with her steady breath being the only sign that she yet remains here. Anders tried to fill the silence somehow but Hawke deflected any attempts of conversation so after few tries he gave up.

Seconds ticked by, slowly turning into minutes and finally after a quarter or so Isabela stirred. Both Hawke and Anders leaned over to have a closer look when her deep brown eyes fluttered open. There was a moment of quiet as they waited in tension before Isabela winced, reached for her head and swore very loudly.

"Ugh,  _ fuck _ !"

"Yeah, she's fine."

Anders sat back down with a smile, waiting for the promised tea as Isabela pulled herself upright. That was a true relief. Hawke couldn't and didn't try to hide how glad she was.

"My head's  _ killing _ me."

Isabela complained as she started to take in her surroundings to determine where the actual crap she is right now. More than mildly confused she turned to Hawke.

"Miriam, how the hell did I get here?"

Hawke only managed to open her mouth but no words had time to emerge before the door opened and a gust of cold wind rushed through the room, sending the flames in the fireplace flickering and dancing. Bodahn came in first absolutely soaked through and through, followed by taller, more slender hooded figure. A welcoming smile formed on Hawke's face even before her guest raised hands in metal gauntlets to pull back the black hood, revealing the short white hair and olive toned face of very grumpy and very wet Fenris.

"I hope you have a good reason for dragging me out into the rain."

That sounded like a threat but, honestly? Almost ninety percent of what Fenris says sounds like a threat. It's just the way he is. He has some very rare moments of compassion or tenderness but otherwise remains cold as steel. He's almost always dark and brooding but Hawke would be damned if she said he wasn't her friend. In another world, if her heart didn't lie elsewhere, she might've loved him. Perhaps she should have taken a chance while it was given to her..

_ It seemed that fate has an exceptional sense of humor, bringing together a group of crazy people in a crazy place like Kirkwall. Between Merrill, Anders, Isabela and Hawke this city should've long fallen but thanks to Bethany and Varric's efforts Kirkwall still stood, even though the mages and templars were going ham. Aveline had also helped to keep things calm but there was no more spite between anyone than between her and Isabela. At least until Fenris joined the merry band of misfits. Every motley crew needed a grump and the former slave of the Tevinter magister was doing just fine. Especially when leaving him alone with Anders could end in a solid bloodletting. At first anyway, they eventually started to get along without threat of them killing one another. _

_ Fenris wasn't a talkative type when he joined Hawke but the little bits of his story he'd shared made her understand his attitude to magic and pretty much everything around him. They weren't all that different to be honest. Hawke could see many of her own character features in the brooding elf, like boldness or stubbornness, and it was somehow bringing them closer together. _

_ "I've been meaning to thank you." _

_ He said one night when they were sitting in the mansion he'd claimed for himself and drinking wine. The night has grown late and it was time for Hawke to return home after a pleasant evening with her companion. She was already on her way out when he stopped her and walked up to her. With a smile she turned to face him as he continued. _

_ "I've never had a friend. I figured it would be best if I didn't allow anyone too close. And yet.. here we are." _

_ Miriam placed her hand on his shoulder, still smiling. When he had put it like that she felt sort of special. To be the first and only at the time friend to a fugitive from Tevinter who never trusted anyone. Extraordinary. _

_ "You don't have to thank me, Fenris. You needed my help and I provided it. I won't let you down, I promise." _

_ They'd been through so much in such a short time.. Hard experiences bring people together, it seems. Hawke had very few friends but she treasured them, no matter how perky they were. She was about to withdraw when Fenris placed his own hand on top of hers. This halted her. _

_ "I don't have to. But I wish to." _

Is this you talking, or the wine talking?  _ Miriam wanted to tease as she herself felt a bit off after all the alcohol she consumed but then she looked up from his shoulder to his big elven eyes. To this day she had no idea how to name the color of his irises. They were like soil mixed with fresh ashes in the light of pale morning. But in the warmth of the room they seemed so marvelously green. Flickering blazes of the nearby fireplace were reflecting in those bizarre eyes like wisps of warm light, replacing the sparks of happiness that had long been extinguished with the moment of the lyrium being burned into his flesh. Those lights captivated her.  _ Maker's mercy, he is so close.. _ A soft flutter arose in her stomach at the sight of a gentle smile caressing the features of his earthly face. Fenris rarely smiled and only for short moments and this time it wasn't any different. As his smile faded into nothing, his now half-lidded eyes wandered down to rest his sights on her mouth. Unconsciously, Hawke raised her other hand to brush her thumb across his cheek. His pointed ears rose ever so slightly at the gesture. It didn't matter to her who he was, how much blood he'd spilled to become who he is now and take his freedom. She didn't care how many people hunted him. Danarius can come and try to take him back right now if he dares. She won't let him have her friend. Then Fenris inched closer. Hawke followed his movement and they began to close the very insignificant gap between them. Her heart was quivering in her chest like it was about to jump out, she was sure that at this proximity Fenris feels it too. And just as well she could feel his own heart racing in his chest. The tip of her nose brushed against his as she slightly tilted her head to the right. She was barely aware of his hand moving behind her ear.  _ Maker, he's going to do this. _. His warm breath washed over her face when the distance between them has ran out and after an agonisingly long wait she finally captured his lips with hers. _

_ The whole world halted. This shared kiss was wonderful albeit very brief. When Hawke parted her lips invitingly against his mouth, Fenris suddenly retracted, blinking as though he'd just woke up from a deep trance and come to his senses. His hand that was buried in her black hair, like a contrast to his white, dropped to his side as he took a hesitant step back. Miriam looked at his surprised face and it felt like a hefty slap that brought her from the skies back down onto the earth.  _ Oh, fuck. _ A very vibrant blush spilled over her cheeks as she looked away in embarrassment. But surprisingly, it was Fenris who started. _

_ "I apologise. That was.. highly inappropriate of me." _

_ "No, I apologise. I shouldn't have started it.." _

_ Fenris chuckled and awkwardly cleared his throat as Hawke was trying to hide the redness of her face. Stupid wine. _

_ "You were on your way. I'm not going to stop you anymore." _

_ "Th- thanks, I guess. It was nice to see you.. Goodnight." _

_ "Goodnight, Hawke." _

_ A little giddy and smiling like a moron, Miriam left the mansion. It may have been inappropriate but Andraste step back down into the world and torch her if it didn't feel glorious. His lips were softer than she'd anticipated, easily turning her legs into jelly. But perhaps it really wasn't the best idea. She'll have to think about it once her mind is clear of the intoxication.. _

And she did. It was a small thing and once she was sober, reason returned to her. It never had a chance to work. Fenris apologized again for stealing her first kiss that wasn't meant for him and they never spoke of this again. Hawke was glad that they at least remained friends. But enough of daydreaming when he really looks like he's about to kill someone. It suddenly seemed dumb to reveal the true reason of requesting his presence here since he always seemed to be pissed off if  _ this  _ was the only reason but Hawke didn't come up with any alternative.  _ Shit. _

"Uh.. hello, Fenris.. How are you doing?"

He simply raised one eyebrow and said nothing. The look on his face was telling her everything. She had to speak his mind as he was having none of it.

"So.. I've just seen a Qunari behaving really strange. I figured-"

He raised his hand to cut her off already with a snarky retort forming in his mouth. The dripping coat was discarded onto the stand as he joined Bodahn by the fire to warm himself up a little, all this time with a distasteful look on his face. He unfolded his arms in an annoyed gesture.

"Well, here I am, your soaked walking and talking library of secret knowledge. Ask away."

It was still better than Hawke had expected. At least he wasn't in  _ that  _ foul mood despite all the rain and was willing to answer. When Fenris was mad, it could get really unpleasant at times and it wasn't the best moment for this. Then Leandra, bless her soul, walked in with a steaming teapot and cups on a tray and gave each of them one. When a cup of hot aromatic tea landed in Fenris' hands, his furrowed eyebrows immediately relaxed and the air around him turned a little lighter. She winked to Hawke and retired to her room to give them space.  _ I love you, mother. _ Hawke sighed contented.

"Hmm.. Thank you, mistress Amell. So, Hawke, what was that about a Qunari you just said?"

Fenris prompted, already in visibly better mood than when he walked in. He wasn't used to being treated so well or welcome anywhere so it was hard to say if he was glad or simply dumbfounded. Whatever the case, Isabela was also waiting as she hadn't gotten her answer yet, warming her hands with her own teacup. Hawke settled herself comfortably in her chair and proceeded with an explanation. Fenris listened to all of it and while his eyebrows gradually descended, giving his face a thoughtful expression, Isabela's eyebrows raised up her forehead so high that they disappeared beneath the bandage.

"So you're telling me he charged in without a warning."

"Yes."

"While carrying her unconscious."

"Yep."

"Then ran away scared."

"Yeah.."

Anders sipped the tea and chuckled, pointing towards the entrance to the mansion over his shoulder with his thumb.

"At least the door is still usable."

And Hawke couldn't help but agree that he had a point. It was a miracle that the door didn't fly out of its hinges with how brutally Taashath entered. It should've been left in a questionable condition at least. Fenris took a gulp of his own tea and scratched his chin.

"Huh. I don't dare to hope you managed to get any answers from him."

"He's mute."

Isabela chimed in before Hawke could answer. When she told Miriam that Taashath used to be a Saarebas, she suspected that. It was disappointing to hear nonetheless.

"That's what I thought.."

Fenris fell silent to think for a moment, visibly interested by the unusual situation, but didn't seem to be able to find the right answer just yet. The puzzle still lacked few important pieces.

"Was there any blood on him or was he wounded as well?"

Thinking about it now, Hawke couldn't recall any signs that would suggest he'd just killed someone, possibly the attacker, but that might've been because the rain washed any blood stains away. It was highly unlikely that someone managed to hit Isabela without harming Taashath or getting slaughtered right after that. "Strange" wasn't good enough to describe the whole thing. She saw no stains on his clothes or weapon but she did remember..

"I think his palm was bleeding but that was it."

That's not any real help but at least something. Still having next to nothing, Fenris turned to Isabela. After all, she was the wounded party here. Quite literally in fact.

"Perhaps  _ you  _ can shed some light on the case."

"Maker's balls, I don't know.."

She murmured still rubbing her sore temple. Just like Hawke was expecting, the bruise was already around her eye and it did not look pretty. Just wait until it turns green.. Andraste's pyre, it won't do her much justice.. If Isabela couldn't give them any clues, they were stuck with nothing but speculations left. She brainstormed for few moments before her face brightened.

"Wait.. I remember- We were walking towards the Darktown to hide from the downpour and then he suddenly got, I don't know.. a panic attack of sorts? He didn't seem to hear me talking to him and when I touched him-"

Her face scrunched up in concentration as she tried to recall something more. Then her mouth opened in an expression of hurt and outrage as her eyebrows came back down low over her eyes.

"Hey! The motherfucker  _ punched  _ me!"

Hawke's eyes were bulging out of their sockets. That was  _ not  _ what she was expecting to hear. She remembered Isabela telling her not even a day ago that Taashath has her back and now it turned out that it was the same Qunari that threatened her. It didn't even occur to her that she should probably ask why Isabela was out there and why she didn't want her to follow. She was way too confused to see the ridiculous expression on Anders' face that signified that he'd just suffered from information overload and listen to Isabela ranting about Taashath being a filthy backstabbing twat. And poor Fenris sat there trying to piece it all together with the look of "I hate my life" on his face, waiting for a moment, before he finally stood up with his lyrium markings flaring up with blue.

" _ Shut up! _ I can't hear my thoughts!"

The silence that fell was so intense that one could hear a feather fall to the floor when even Sandal stopped rapping Charlie's belly to look up at glowing Fernis. Mabari tilted his head confused by all the shouting. The elf released a breath and sat back down. His enchanted tattoos faded as he breathed and rubbed his temples. Thank the Maker that Leandra brought the tea. If she hadn't, Hawke was pretty sure someone (possibly Anders) would've gotten hurt right now. "Covered in spikes like an angsty porcupine" Varric once said about him. Hawke could hardly believe how perfect this comparison was. She made no efforts whatsoever to stop herself from cackling back then. Fenris forced a sour smile.

"Rejoice. I think I know what happened."

The sarcastic pressure put on the first word gave Hawke the impression that there's nothing to be happy about. Every time he started a conversation in this gravely tone, she was expecting the worst. From the death of someone she cared about to the Sixth motherfucking  _ Blight. _ It was part of his charm. He turned to Isabela once again and asked one more question.

"Did he seem tired in the morning?"

"Y- yeah, I guess."

"Ugh.. I definitely know what happened."

Fenris grumbled rubbing his eyes with pads of two fingers. He finished his tea and leaned forward, supporting his weight with his elbows on his knees. The explanation he'd given was far from comforting.

"Your friend Taashath has suffered from nightmares, had a random panic attack and finally unintentionally struck you."

_ "Unintentionally?" _

Hawke shared Isabela's disbelief at the answer. How can someone knock the other person unconscious by  _ accident?  _ But since it was Fenris who's an expert when it comes to Qunari and not her, she decided to keep her mouth shut and let him finish his train of thought.

"Yes. I suspect he has the Asala-taar."

"Uh.. which in our language means..?"

Anders asked, having already shrugged off. That was a reasonable question. Hawke knew some words in Qunlat but this one was new to her. She nodded and so did Isabela. Fortunately, Fenris didn't keep them waiting.

"Soul sickness. It's a mental illness common among the Qunari."

"Wait, so I've been traveling with a psychopath?"

The look on Isabela's face was priceless and if the circumstances were different, Hawke would've laughed but right now she wasn't in mood. It's not even about the shitty weather anymore, it was just getting darker and darker each time someone said something. Fenris frowned at her interruption.

"No. Let me finish. He's ill and he most likely knows it already. He hit you, realised what he's done, brought you into a safe place and because he didn't want to harm anyone else by accident, he ran off."

The ease which he said it all with and his skills of deduction were honestly impressive. It wasn't difficult to notice the smugness on Fenris' face when they all gawked at him with their jaws on the floor. He enjoyed being appreciated by others, having lived all his life as a slave bossed around by magisters. He leaned against the back of his chair and suddenly his smirk disappeared as though it wasn't even there. The way he described the situation truly made it sound dead serious.

"There is no tamassran here to help him so he might be dangerous. And if we don't find him soon, it's going to get ugly real quick."

* * *

Never mind the rain and cold, if there's a mentally unstable, armed Qunari on the loose, it is an understatement to say it's going to get ugly. There are more than enough idiots in Kirkwall willing to get themselves killed by poking a stick at a grizzly bear. Or an angry, psychotic oxman. Both cases are equally as deadly. The whole group downed their tea and immediately started to gather up. A slight tremble slithered down into Hawke's gut. It was so thrilling, after over a week of doing absolutely nothing she finally gets to go out to do something crazy with her friends again. Honestly, there was no thing they were doing together that wasn't crazy in some way.  _ They  _ were all crazy, her included. Well, maybe not Aveline, she was most likely the only normal person in their group. Though, she wasn't about to forget that one time the guard captain tried to woo Donnic and she was  _ abysmal _ at it. The memories were still making her laugh sometimes. Hawke knew she shouldn't fight anything as her damaged muscles and broken ribs still ached and her leg wasn't fully healed yet but she was glad to go back to looking for trouble. The only person who really should stay was Anders. After what he did to heal her, he was still exhausted. When Hawke saw him get up and reach for his staff, she raised her hands to stop him.

"Whoa, where do you think  _ you're _ going?"

"Out."

Hawke frowned at him and received an equally annoyed frown in return. He'd risked his life to save hers and he's not going anywhere unless she decides he's fine, which he still wasn't.

"No way. You're feverish. As a healer you should know better."

"I do, and I think you might need me."

His determination was endearing but it took only one look at his pale, clammy face and sickly shining eyes for Hawke to make a decision. He'd be on his feet for about ten to twenty minutes before he collapsed all over again. He's staying here, period. Hawke smiled and threw her arms around his neck in a hug. The way he staggered under her only confirmed her suspicions as did the heat his body was producing.

"Anders, I appreciate it but you still need to rest. You nearly killed yourself."

"And so did you."

He retorted but the stern look she gave him after she pulled away was leaving no place for further argument. He knew that look.

" _ Anders. _ "

"Alright, fine! I'll stay."

He finally conceded but the way his eyes flickered with blue didn't go unnoticed. After over a week of being stranded here Justice had grown restless and Hawke could hardly blame him for it. Even a spirit eventually gets bored by sitting in one place, especially if it's in the world of mortals beyond the Veil. And in this case especially when there are no templars to kill. Isabela inched away at the sight of the eerie light they all got to know so well and Fenris reached for the blade strapped to his back just in case.

"Is he going crazy again?"

"Not yet."

Hawke snapped before turning back to the healer. It wasn't a secret that Fenris didn't like Anders much but there was no need for smiting him where he stood. She placed her hands on his shoulders as she stared into his burning eyes that started to emanate black smoke. His lips were formed into a thin line as blue, smoking cracks covered his cheeks and forehead. With a reassuring smile she spoke.

"Few more days and it'll be it. I promise."

He gave her a once over, still, silent and menacing, before he whispered quietly

"I believe you.."

His voice resonated with the echo of the Fade as he spoke, merging with the voice of Justice. The light dissipated and he relaxed. His hand grasped hers nervously.

"Just.. take care."

"I will."

The moment she heard Fenris snicker, she already knew what he was going to say. Isabela's meaningful look also left no doubts. She knew them too well.

"The last time you said that, you ended up impaled on the Arishok's sword."

Exactly what she was expecting. The memory wasn't what she welcomed. Her heart was still bleeding, most likely will for a long time to come. And besides, that  _ really _ did hurt, no arguing here.  _ Why does it feel like he's taking revenge for dragging him out of the mansion? _

"You're not helping, Fenris."

"Nor do I intend to."

He chuckled and moved to collect his cloak. Yes, that was totally revenge. What's with him and taking vengeance on everyone, anyway? Some kind of weird fetish? After the nightmare he'd lived through though, it wasn't really surprising. Hawke shook her head and tossed her own coat over her shoulders turning to Isabela.

"You sure you're okay?"

She shrugged as she picked one of the coats Hawke was willing to borrow her. Even if she wasn't alright, she was really good at hiding it. Head traumas are tricky after all.

"Eh, I've had much worse than getting punched in the face."

That was true, Hawke had to admit. She remembered that one time Isabela nearly got eviscerated by a Tevinter slaver while they were having a nice walk through Darktown. Well, as nice as it could've been.. Not to mention a bloody dragon. She was pretty sure Fenris still had a scar on his thigh and side after it tried to bite him in half while Isabela struggled to get up after being flung on a tail at a nearby rock. A minor head injury really wasn't the worst she had.

"Miriam Eileen Hawke!"

Her mother's voice rung out from the staircase as Hawke was about to open the door and go out into the city. She froze a little startled as Leandra sternly walked towards her with determination painted across her face. She has just been called by her full name, this can't be good..

"Yes, mother?"

"If you come back the way you did last time, you're _ grounded _ until you find a suitable husband. Am I clear?"

A little knot twisted in her gut. That was a significant threat that Hawke didn't wish to see come true but Leandra's words were laced with worry that warmed heart. After her pitiable attempts to fight off the Qunari, she was left in a truly sorrowful condition. It was a miracle she survived those injuries.. No, not a miracle, it was just Anders but still, her mother knew that and didn't want to see her get hurt again. Miriam could probably live with that, there were some.. very discreetly she glanced at Fenris who immediately as discreetly shook his head mouthing "we've talked about it already".. handsome men she could make a living with if it came to that. There was still a matter of a certain Qunari she couldn't let go of, however. She would get over it eventually..  _ Who am I kidding, I'll never let go, even though I knew from the start it was an awful idea..  _ Anders, currently retaking his place on the couch and snuggling into the blanket, seemed to enjoy this immensely as he probably already imagined Hawke putting on a dress to act like a proper lady. A proper lady with anger management problems and ability to swing a sword twice as big as she was who also swore like a sailor, not to mention the company she keeps. Putting on the most innocent smile she was capable of, Hawke turned to mother.

"Don't worry about me. I'm not about to pick a fight yet. I'm still sore after the last one."

"Stay safe."

Leandra answered with troubled lines marking her forehead. There was no denying that she didn't have all reasons to worry. She'd lost all of her children except for Miriam who was the most reckless of the whole three. One kiss on the head for good luck later, she was off to start searching for the missing Qunari in the pouring rain.

First and foremost, they needed a plan of action. Isabela was sent to inform others and ask if they hadn't seen the man while Hawke and Fenris headed towards the Keep to talk to Aveline. Some guards must've seen something and if not, they would surely increase their chances of finding Taashath. Kirkwall was a big place in itself without including Vimmark Mountains and Planasene Forest. Pirate queen was also given a few sovereigns to pay Maraas to keep his eyes open. They needed all the help they could get.

"You owe me one, Hawke."

Fenris snapped when they walked together through the rain with unseasonably cold wind constantly trying to pull their hoods down. He had the right to be angry as the weather was nothing but horrible and it wasn't even past noon yet. Hawke couldn't complain though, he might've not come at all and they'd have been still brainstorming about what happened to Taashath and Isabela while he's out there doing Maker knows what.

"Yes, I know. What would you have me do?"

"I'll think of something. But I can already tell you I won't be your husband if you get pummeled."

Hawke was a little too slow to put up her hand over her mouth and nose and stop a snort from coming out. Yes, they'd discussed it almost two years before but thinking about it now, if she had to choose, she'd go for Fenris. If she still felt the same way she did back then, his cold rejection would've wounded her but now it was just hilarious. She elbowed his ribs, earning a displeased grunt.

"Aw, come on. I wouldn't be that bad."

"Why me and not your mage, for instance?"

"You mean Merril?"

An exasperated growl that Fenris let out after his hand loudly impacted with his own forehead made her giggle. She loved messing with her friends, even when they found her sense of humor utterly and incredibly annoying. They shouldn't complain though, Isabela had much worse sometimes.

"You know  _ exactly _ who I meant."

That she did but she couldn't miss the opportunity. Well, she could but there were some issues. If Anders wasn't a little too radical in his beliefs and a little too possessed by a spirit thirsting for vengeance against essentially everything that moves at this point for her liking, Fenris would've had a good point. He was handsome, she had to give him that, and his experience as a healer would certainly come in handy in the future. The blonde hair was especially working on her. After living in a family where everyone had black hair, she was weak for fair strands. But if someone she liked was white-haired.. Glorious. That might've been, not necessarily was, one of the reasons of her infatuation with the Arishok. _The Arishok.._ _Damn it! Not now!_

"Oh, Anders? Well, he's is fine but he's not my type."

"And I  _ am  _ your type? I thought you had a thing for Qunari."

_Oof._ That was a blow below belt. So much for teasing. Everything could be said about Fenris but not that he doesn't have his own pointy tips (she nearly snorted again as she realised that she just made a very bad and very racist pun about elven ears). Teasing him usually ends with a very nasty retort from him that can leave a burn that hurts for days but Hawke still kept doing it anyway. She's never going to learn. Not sure if for that one she should furiously shove against his arm, giggle or cry, she cleared her throat and pulled her wet cloak tightly around her, letting the hood conceal upper half of her face. She had developed resistance to almost any riposte Fenris could throw at her but _ouch_ this one got her good.

"I think I'll just shut up now."

"Noted and appreciated."

_ Smug bastard. _ He probably doesn't realise how that feels. To love someone who will never love back, who she trusted and who had nearly killed her because  _ reasons.  _ The Arishok was her past now. A past that isn't coming back anytime soon.  _ Why am I so upset then? _ Perhaps that's exactly why.. Even though she felt like murdering the blasted Qunari, she wanted to see him again, find answers to her questions and finally _ end  _ what was between them to never have to look back and wonder if she could make it work if she had tried hard enough.

The rest of the path to the Keep passed in silence and for a moment she could've sworn Fenris looked like he was considering if he should've said anything. To him, it was unlike her to fall silent for extended periods of time. Ascending the white marble stairs  _ (the same stairs the Arishok stood on the last time she came here..) _ they left a trail of water behind, already hearing the grumbling of servants behind their backs. They passed a group of guardsmen lounging in the canteen without even being acknowledged as Hawke was known to visit this place rather often but it still took a while to get to Aveline. Judging by the sounds of scratching against papers she was in her office, looking through reports and filling in paperwork.

"Aveline!"

Hawke smiled as the captain jumped in her seat at the sound of her voice. Aveline's green eyes shined at her sight as she immediately abandoned the quill and rushed towards Miriam to embrace her.

"Hawke, I'm so glad to see you finally standing!"

"It's good to see you too, Aveline."

The redhead pulled away with a smile and gave Hawke a once over as though she hadn't seen her in ages. Well, to Aveline it may have felt like ages. The work of guard captain never ends in a city like Kirkwall. Especially after so much shit has gone down when Viscount Dumar perished during the Qunari uprising. With Meredith taking his duties, it was only getting worse. Especially for mages. Hawke dreaded to think how poor Orsino is fairing. It wasn't enough that he got badly wounded in the attack, he still needed to put up with Knight-Commander's shenanigans and her increasing paranoia. How the First Enchanter didn't die from a stress-induced heart attack yet, was beyond her. He has to be the most patient mage she'd ever met.

"What brings you here, Champion of Kirkwall?"

Aveline teased when Hawke and Fenris took their seats to explain the situation they'd found themselves in. She listened with her smile gradually fading to make place for a worried frown. Her reaction was somewhat.. natural. They'd just solved the conflict with the Qunari and here comes another mess involving one of the said giants. When Hawke was done, Aveline rubbed her forehead nervously.

"You're literally the opposite of sister Petrice. She was causing all problems with the Qunari and you're  _ solving _ them."

"Good riddance to her."

"How come.."

Aveline started, looking for suitable words to voice her disbelief.

".. that whenever something goes wrong lately, it always involves Qunari one way or another?"

That was a fair point, Hawke had to admit. Nearly three past years were all about trying to stop Kirkwallers from angering the Qunari and appeasing the Arishok so that he doesn't murder every human in one mile radius for being an idiot.

"Problems with the Qunari are much like the Qunari themselves. Coming in hordes."

Fenris commented and though it wasn't one of the best puns Hawke has ever heard from him (she much preferred the one when he said that he thought Varric's beard fell onto his chest) but still it made her crack a smile with how accurate it was. Aveline's eyebrow wandered up at this one. Apparently she was less than impressed.

"Wow, the brooding elf jokes. I'll have to write it down somewhere."

"I'm  _ not _ brooding."

Hawke sighed with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as they continued their bickering. It's been a while since she enjoyed herself that much. Oh, how she missed that..

Aveline passed the description of the missing Qunari amongst her guards along with a warning about his unpredictability. Hawke and Fenris left the Keep in way better mood as they noticed that the rain ceased and the clouds dispersed, letting the shy rays of afternoon sun through. On the marketplace in the Hightown, they met up with Varric, Isabela and Merrill.

"Rivani said that there's a problem with our new Qunari friend."

Varric said with a slightly disappointed look on his face.

"And here I thought I'll teach him to play Wicked Grace. He'd be a master at it with that poker face of his.."

"It's not too late yet, Varric. We can still find him."

Merrill pointed out. It doesn't hurt to be a little optimistic every now and then and at this moment Hawke could very much use some optimism. Merrill might be a blood mage. A far too innocent for her sake blood mage but she was really good at lifting Hawke's spirits up. That's the attitude they needed. No point in mopping. It won't get them anywhere.

"So what do we do now?"

Isabela asked unfolding her arms. That was a very good question but fortunately Hawke managed to think of a response before they met up.

"Okay, here's the plan. We separate into two groups. One will search Hightown and Lowtown and the other - the docks and the Darktown. We have the support of the city guard and Maraas is keeping an eye out beyond the city walls. Then we'll meet up in the Hanged Man before the nightfall. Objections?"

There didn't seem to be any as no one said anything. No disagreement for once.. It must be a miracle. Eventually it has been decided. Isabela, Merrill and Fenris went for the lower parts of the city while Varric and Hawke stayed in Hightown after she stopped by her house to take Charlie along. The sad puppy eyes Anders gave her when he realised she came back for the dog and not him were almost heartwrenching. Almost. Nothing could make her change her mind about him staying in bed for few more days.

* * *

"Anything?"

Hawke asked Fenris when they were all sitting by the table in the Hanged Man. They'd been searching for the whole day and even with Varric's keen eyes and Charlie's sensitive nose Hawke didn't find a single trace that would suggest where Taashath could've gone. It was unsurprising, if he left any trails of scent they had been washed away by the rain so even the well trained mabari couldn't pick it up. Still though it was rather disappointing. Asking the people also didn't bring desired results. She hoped that at least others have found  _ something  _ but the sour wince on Isabela's face and the sad look Merrill gave her confirmed that her hope was in vain even before Fenris shook his head.

"No. He must've gone out of the city."

"Damn it."

Miriam cursed and downed her drink with frustration visible in her stiff movements. This was hopeless. If Taashath had indeed left Kirkwall, then even the city guard cannot help. They'll have to go around the Wounded Coast and Sundermount themselves to find the guy. Charlie nuzzled his nose against her hand, prompting her to scratch his head. Hawke did so gladly but it didn't make her feel better. It's impossible that no one had seen a gigantic Qunari in a golden mask, he sticks out of the crowd like a sore thumb. It was raining, she gets it, but at least one person had to see him. Either they'd been asking wrong people or someone was lying. Not sure what's worse.

"Don't worry, Hawke. We can try again tomorrow."

Merrill suggested reaching across the table to touch Miriam's arm reassuringly. None of her companions seemed to share her good mood. Even Varric sighed with a look of defeat on his face before he took a swig.

"Yeah, we could. But is there a point? If he wanted to leave Kirkwall, he'd be already far away by then."

A creak of the opening door ripped them out of their thoughts and they looked up to see the familiar Tal-Vashoth mercenary walk in with an oblong object wrapped in cloth. Seeing them, Maraas approached and unceremoniously dropped the thing on the table. It landed with a loud clunk and made their cups jump.

"I was in the forest. This is all I've found."

He muttered before leaving towards the counter to order a drink. Hawke looked up at her equally surprised friends. At least they had  _ something.  _ Merrill was more than excited to see what it was. Peeling back the cloth caused Hawke's heart to leap up to her throat. It was a Qunari blade covered in dirt. She traced the cold metal with her fingers. Most of the Qunari swords look similar but this one was unique. She knew it the moment she laid her eyes on it. The same blade that nearly severed the thread of her life a week ago. How..?

"It's.. the Arishok's sword."

She uttered in disbelief that quickly passed onto her companions.

"But what is it doing here?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there is a cliffhanger again, I live for that shit xD
> 
> Also, if you're wondering why I implemented Fenris/Hawke relationship.. *cough*   
> *quietly* I love him ❤


	8. Second chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The discovery of Arishok's blade worries Isabela who's not yet ready to reveal the truth. Hawke doesn't take it well either.
> 
> Meanwhile, somewhere in the woods, golden eyes open once more..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a long while! And the chapter is much shorter than normally. I'm so sorry, but the blasted exams have sucked all my creativity out XD
> 
> Anyway, here you finally go.

_This is bad._

Isabela bit the inside of her cheek as Hawke recognised the blade after a _single glance._ How did she even do that? She just looked at the sodding thing and instantly _knew._ That was possibly the worst timing in the world when the Arishok she knew no longer existed and even if he did want to make up with her before, he was gone now to Maker knows where and the only trace they had was the sword. A sword she wished was never discovered. _Damn it, Maraas. Why are you always worth the coin?_ Isabela cursed in her mind but she couldn't really blame the mercenary for being _good_ at what he does. He has to make a living after all. Anyway, she'd have to speak with him in private later. But now, Isabela should think of something and think of it fast. Especially because after the initial shock wore off, all eyes were on her.

"What?"

She questioned as they stared at her with something akin to confusion and suspicion, and she could practically hear all the questions coming. No one was stupid enough not to put all the clues together and see they're leading to her. Taashath was _her_ companion after all. And Hawke wasn't a woman who gives up when she wants to pry something out. Nothing was stopping her this time either.

"Taashath had this one on his back when you two came here."

That wasn't even a question. Hawke simply stated the obvious truth as Taashath stubbornly refused to leave this accursed sword and indeed carried it around on his back. Stupid Qunari and their stupid habits.. It was more than obvious that this was a bad idea and yet he did it anyway. Isabela looked down into her drink to avoid the questioning glances.

"He might have.."

She started defensively. _Oh, my god._ _Hawke's gonna be so pissed off.._ It's not like she didn't want to just spit it all out to her after the stunt Taashath pulled off back in the docks but then again, it was not his fault as he had no idea what he was doing. But there was this nagging suspicion that if Hawke knew what a fool she'd been made out of _again_ , she would find the retired warlord on the other side of the world and murder the everliving fuck out of him the first chance she got. Or get herself killed trying. Both options seemed equally as nasty and _undesirable._ Luckily, Varric defused the situation by suddenly bursting with a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Everyone looked at him strangely as he finally took a breath and was able to speak his mind.

"Wait. If you're trying to tell us that you _stole_ the Arishok's sword just to mess with him.. Andraste's sacred knickers in a knot, Rivani, you're a master!"

 _This is getting written down somewhere._ He didn't have to say it for all of them to know that he thought about it. Varric's laughter was contagious and soon Merrill too was giggling and Hawke was trying really hard not to but failing miserably. Fenris simply let his eyebrow wander up, leaving his stone face where it belonged. That wasn't a bad answer at all. Playing along, Isabela put her feet up on the table with a devious smirk, pretending to be smug but freaking out internally. _I'm going to need more whiskey to put up with that._ She thought with panic still remaining in her stomach. Hawke dragged her hand down her face, wiping stray tears of hysterical laughter and shook her head.

"I bet he's _really_ pissed off right now.."

"That I'm sure he is."

Fenris said absolutely deadpan, making all the good humor evaporate in an instant. His brooding sometimes is just as contagious as laughter unfortunately.

"Why the long face, Broody?"

Varric sighed when the sugar coated bubble of joyful atmosphere suddenly popped. Isabela was about to ask the same. They were all having so much fun imagining the Arishok being furious for getting his sword stolen but Fenris seemed to have none of it. He turned to Hawke.

"Do you remember what I told you about the significance of Qunari blades?"

Miriam hummed thoughtfully for a moment, trying to recall it the best she could. It was slowly getting hot again. Isabela barely stopped herself from hitting her head against the table top. It was going _so_ well and he had to _ruin_ it. _Damn it, Fenris._

"Some of it.. That they're the symbolic extensions of their bodies and their souls?"

"That too. Remember the part about _parting with one's weapon being seen as a disgrace?_ "

Oh. _Oh._ That she had no idea about. Isabela suddenly felt like she should leave to have some fresh air. That would mean this got even worse than how it started. She scanned her companions who have gone absolutely silent, staring at the blade in front if them. Hawke swallowed thickly and looked at Fenris with a very uncertain expression.

"So what does this mean? He's.. coming back for it?"

The barely audible tone of hope in Hawke's voice nearly made Isabela snort. After all that happened, she still wanted to see him again, even if it would mean more trouble for this already crumbling city. Curious. And kind of funny to be honest. Never knows when to give up. Miriam was always stubborn and relentless. Just like the Arishok. They would get along just fine if only the world gave them a chance. Unfortunately, her amusement didn't last long as Fenris proceeded with an explanation.

"Possibly. But getting apprehended and tortured, exiled, killed or worse is a more likely outcome."

In merely a split of a second Hawke's face turned absolutely pale at the mere thought. She blinked. And again. And again. With that peculiar dead look in her eyes. Simply stopped responding to anything happening around her as Varric cleared his throat, switching his interest back to his whiskey.

"Oof. Sucks to be him then.."

"To put it lightly."

Fenris clarified. Isabela gulped, more than slightly concerned about how this is going to end. Hawke looked like she was about to drop dead and Isabela couldn't really blame her. The silence prolonged as Hawke gawked at nothing in particular but fortunately there was always someone to relieve the tension in the air. Always the same someone. It was so good to have Varric here as he was a master of changing subjects. After taking a swig, he set his cup loudly on the table and pulled out a deck of cards.

"Well, since it's too late to do anything more today.. Anyone fancy a round or two of Diamondback?"

 _Hell, yes._ Isabela thought. She hadn't played in a long time. What would people say if she got rusty at cheating in a game of cards? Unthinkable! Varric was right, it was too dark already to safely continue their search for Taashath so they might as well have some fun before going to sleep. There was no need to worry about him. From what she'd seen, the Kossith was resourceful enough to make do so there was no reason for her not to enjoy the game tonight. Her eagerness was very visible as she did nothing to conceal it. Her body language was saying exactly what she thought. Merrill smiled and nodded. The young elf has learned to play from Isabela not so long ago and she loved it ever since.

"Broody?"

Fenris eyed Varric carefully. Then looked down at the deck in the dwarf's hands, thinking for a moment. Then he tossed his drink off like it's nobody's business and slammed the cup down.

"Count me in."

"That's what I like to hear! What about you, Hawke?"

Miriam.. didn't seem like someone who was about to play Diamondback. Her face was snow white with sweat beading around her brow. The appearance of this sodding sword along with the news Fenris shared clearly upset her. Isabela was about to ask if she is okay but that would be a dumb question so she bit her tongue. Also, Hawke is a strong person, she's been through much worse. She'll manage on her own.

"No, I think I'll retire early.. Do enjoy yourselves."

Hawke muttered. Then she carefully stood up, swaying slightly on her legs and left the main hall, staggering upstairs to one of the rooms they'd booked earlier that evening with Charlie in tow without even finishing her drink. _She'll manage.._ Isabela thought as she was given the cards. At least she hoped so..

Without any strength left, Hawke collapsed onto the bed, armor and all, as soon as she closed the door behind her. She felt like crying all over again after what she just heard. If Arishok's sword was here, then he truly was in a pickle. No, not a pickle. A grave danger. She wanted to be mad as Isabela but she knew she can't as her friend can't have known about the true consequences of such a "prank" and it was only pissing her off more. Miriam sat up, listening to the music and sounds of her friends enjoying the game of cards below her. To their laughter, mutual accusations of cheating thrown here and there.. Sometimes Isabela flirting with Fenris just to piss him off.. They were having fun like there's no tomorrow. Obviously. Arishok's problems didn't bother them in the slightest. Why would they? They were, after all, _his_ problems and not theirs.

 _Then why does this bother me?_ This should be none of her concern. Hawke shouldn't care about what happens to the blasted Qunari. And yet, she couldn't stop thinking about it. Even after that knife in the back she got from him, she still thought he doesn't deserve such fate. She still loved him.. And the worst thing about all this was that she can't do anything to change how it goes.

"Vashedan."

She muttered the Qunari curse out of habit and immediately slapped her hand over her mouth. That was the last thing she wanted to slip from her mouth. She really hoped nobody heard it. Groaning, Hawke falls back onto the bed and feeling the bed sag slightly as Charlie jumped on, setting himself comfortably by her side and resting his head on her hip. In spite of herself, she started to scratch her hound, trying to get rid of all those unwelcome feelings. Staring dumbly at the ceiling wasn't helping to get her mind cleared out however. The thought of the Arishok, stripped of his dignity, bloodied and broken on his knees made her stomach churn. She never wanted to see him that way. Even back at the Keep when she accepted his challenge, she knew she never wanted to see him _die._ She wouldn't be able to finish him even if she somehow managed to defeat him. And now she couldn't rid herself of this image. She had other things to worry about but this one stubbornly refused to leave her. She thought about what Fenris said. "Killed or worse". "There are fates worse than death". Also his words. But what could possibly be worse than death in this case? She dreaded to think of it.. For the first time in pretty much forever, Hawke really considered getting absolutely shit-faced pity drunk. Holding her hands up to her eyes she stifled down a sob.

_Please, don't die, Arishok.._

* * *

Among the cold darkness and burning pain that rendered the limbs numb and weak, he woke up. His eyes fluttered open to see the fabric of a tent splayed out high above his head which was settled neatly on something soft that was tucked the way to allow him to rest comfortably without his horns in the way. There wasn't a lot in this tent, his attention was caught mostly by strings hanging above with dried herbs tied onto them. Their smell was filling the air. The only light in the tent was from a small bonfire above which stood a pot with boiling water. The Arishok looked around confused in his lightheadedness, breathing sharply due to searing filling his chest, his throat and extending to his whole body. It felt as though all his veins and arteries were set afire, steadily burning without relief. His heart was beating quickly and uneasily, as though it was about to cease, yet desperately fought to keep him alive. He shivered uncontrollably despite being covered with a warm blanket. What has happened and where he was was a mystery. He swallowed and tasted the copper tinge of blood on his tongue. _Am I wounded?_ He wondered when he suddenly spotted movement not far on his left. A robed figure, bent over a chest, rummaging through it in search of something.

Nothing was making sense. He couldn't remember what happened from the moment Hawke accepted his challenge to a duel. Then nothing. Not even the outcome but considering that he yet lives ("yet" is a good word here as he felt like death brushed over), then Hawke must've lost and.. perished. This thought sickened him for some reason. She was just a human, unimportant. A basalit-an but still just a human. At least that's what he wanted to think.. Assuming he had finally reached Seheron, he figured that the remnants of his army, very thinned out after the invasion on Kirkwall, must've gotten assaulted by rebels, maybe even the fog warriors and he seriously injured in the process. A chance to take down the member of the Triumvirate was apparently too tempting to ignore. What became of his men, he couldn't tell. Then this person by his side can only be a healer. If that's not the case, he has no idea what is. He breathed in sharply and forced the words in Qunlat out of his hoarse and tightened throat.

[Where.. where are my soldiers, priestess..?]

At the sound of his voice, the figure's head snapped up and looked back at him. After taking the steaming pot off of the fire, they approached him, crouched by his side and carefully started to pick the sweat from his forehead with a damp rag. He shivered at the touch of cold on his forehead but it brought a slight relief. The words that came after that however, stunned him in utter surprise.

"Hush, Alin. You need rest."

Calm voice of an elderly woman rung out in the still air. Words in common. Why in the-? He blinked the strange haze away and looked at the person again. Small, lean, no horns.. It was certainly not a Qunari and definitely not a tamassran. A tiny woman with silver-white hair tied in a bun, her kind face marked by lines of age around her mouth and crow's feet in the corners of her eyes alongside odd tattoos. He'd seen those a couple times, once or twice even on faces of Viddathari. And on the face of the female Saarebas who travelled with Hawke. Her bright and warm eyes were disproportionately big and her ears elongated and pointy. An elf. The robes she wore were made of plain cloths and animal furs.

He closed his eyes, trying to recall anything and he was about to start asking questions when he felt her hand slipped underneath his neck and lifted his head which felt as though it weighed few pounds too much. Then a wooden cup was brought up to his crusted lips. When the first drops of water spilled out, he felt new energy fill him as he lifted his head on his own, drinking greedily as though he hadn't in days. Coldness traveling down his gullet and soothing the feverish heat of his body gave him a sudden moment of clarity.

The sickly delirium abandoned him as he recalled everything. The duel that nearly resulted in Hawke's death ( _she lives then,_ be thought with no small relief), the escape with Isabela during which he almost perished, visit in Kirkwall.. He shuddered at the memory of Isabela lying by his feet with bloodied temple after he struck her in a fit of panic. He remembered feeling the deathroot poison spreading across his system as his consciousness faded. It should've killed him for sure.. Why is he alive then? Perhaps he didn't imagine those shadows after all? Voice of the elven woman ripped him out of his thoughts.

"Do you understand my words?"

"I.. yes."

"Good then."

She smiled serenely and lowered him back down into the bedding. Strange.. He didn't even know this woman and he was pretty sure she doesn't know him either and yet she acted like he.. mattered to her. Perhaps there were more gaps in his memory? So many questions.. but before he could say anything more, she proceeded to explain everything, understanding his shock.

"I am Marethari, Keeper of the clan of Dalish elves. Our hunters have found you half dead in the forest and brought to me. Thank Mythal, they discovered you when they did. An hour or so more and you would've been beyond my aid. Thanks to some of your innate resistance to poison, you yet live. You're safe in our camp, Alin."

The shadows.. They must've been those hunters she speaks of. Normally, he would've been grateful for the rescue but not this time. He frowned at Marethari as she spoke. They shouldn't have done it. Death would've been a relief from his torment and he would welcome it gladly but even this was stolen from him in an act of oblivious kindness. He wanted to be mad at her and the hunters who brought him here but.. he didn't have strength to be angry. The poison still burned inside of him, eating out any energy he might've once had. He sighed and looked at Marethari with disapproval.

"You should've let me die."

At his words, Marethari frowned but not with anger. It was.. sadness and sympathy. She carefully pulled the blanket back up to his chest as she spoke again.

"Why would you say such things, da'len?"

The rag, which she was holding, returned to his feverish forehead with almost motherly care. Strange, strange woman.. The fact that she worried about him, a random Qunari to her, was leaving him in enough shock not to try to stop her. Looking down, he released a tired sigh.

"I'm.. I'm not apt for this life anymore, Keeper."

"I'm.. sorry then."

He raised his eyebrows at Marethari's answer. That was rather unexpected to be honest. He'd expected a lecture, a scold, even a scoff but certainly not an apology. What even was she sorry for? That he didn't want to live or that she denied him his rest?

"Why do you apologise? Would it have made any difference if you knew-"

His speech was interrupted by a rattling cough that tore through his chest like white hot metal. _By the Ashkaari Koslun, how much pain a single dose of poison can cause?_ Some of the blood that remained inside found its way out of his mouth and spilled from the corners of his lips. The Keeper furrowed her eyebrows at this but not a second later she settled herself on the ground cross legged with a gentle smile on her face. She carefully wiped the blood from his face, put the rag away and moved her hands over his heaving chest. As she kept them hovering above him, a pale blue glow appeared between her fingers. _Magic._ He thought with a pang of worry that soon turned out to have been unnecessary. Whatever magic this was, it soothed the burning pain and calmed his tattered nerves, relieving him in the cough. In spite of himself, he let his body relax under this spell. He'd seen this form of sorcery before. The mage Anders was using his curse in a similar way as the Keeper just did. During his life he'd met many Saarebas but such magic was unbelievably rare. Most of the mages were using their abilities for destruction, corruption, sometimes raising the dead (an involuntary shudder ran through him at the memories of corpses possessed by not necessarily always blood magic) or even calling upon demons. Until he met Hawke and her mage, he never thought such magic even existed.

"No, da'len. You may not think so, but in my eyes all life is a precious gift that shouldn't be wasted or thrown away. Why do you wish to die?"

Her way of thinking was.. baffling. He never thought of it like that, always sure that a life can be sacrificed in the name of greater good or purpose, death serving as an example. But then again, what example would his death have been? What use? As Marethari finished her spell, he found strength to sit up straight, even though his head still felt like it was spinning. With a deep sigh of defeat he closed his eyes for a moment. The Keeper patiently waited for him to answer. And to his own surprise, he did.

"My soul is sick, Keeper.. I'm a threat to all that surround me, allies or foes. I betrayed my people, cast away all that I was in the name of the very selfishness I always detested. I brushed with death many times now and it just wouldn't take me but.. I don't even know why I'm telling this to you."

He finally scoffed. A pregnant silence fell for few awfully long moments as Marethari mulled over the words he'd just spoken. It didn't matter how much he told her. He strongly doubted that she is able to help him in any way. She wasn't a tamassran and she couldn't fix any of his past mistakes. But what happened next was something he wouldn't have expected, not even after all bizarre things he'd seen in the span of a single week. He felt the Keeper embrace him and pull him closer. It was a brave move on her part but strangely enough, he didn't stop her, nor did he wish to do so. Her body was much colder than his due to his fever but even his sickly shivers eased when she ran her fingers through his silver hair that must've gotten unbraided as he slept. This act was strange to him, yet oddly familiar and soothing. The steady beating of her heart next to his ear was like a sedative. Tamassrans used to comfort imekari like this whenever they were upset, even he wasn't an exception to this. He wasn't a child anymore and yet.. Once he might've found this audacity appalling and unacceptable but after the time he spent with Isabela this seemed like nothing. He almost chuckled at the memory of the pirate queen tugging at his horns and furiously pushing him away. Marethari spoke soon after the initial confusion waned.

"You think your life is worthless but it's untrue. I know you suffer greatly from all this. Listen to me, da'len. Giving up is not the right way. I'm certain there is still something.. or someone to live for. Some reason.."

Unsurprisingly at this point, his half delirious thoughts drifted to Hawke. To the last moment they'd spent together while she wasn't even aware it was him. He recalled the smell of lavender on her body.. It was true. Whatever happens, Hawke was a remarkable person who'd managed to change him, gradually worming her way into his head and he didn't even notice before it was too late. Frankly, he had suspicions that she didn't either. As much as he didn't want to admit it, the Keeper was right. After all, it was Hawke who made him abandon the life he was content with and come back to this wretched place. All he required was a little urge from Isabela. If Miriam wasn't his reason to live, to keep going and get up even after the hardest fall, then nothing was. Hawke was that one thing pushing him forward even in moments like this. How could he have been so blind when he decided it was the time to die?

"Yes.. yes, perhaps.."

"Let me help you, da'len. I can heal you if you let me.."

Marethari released him and some small part of him was somewhat disappointed to be honest. I can heal you, she said. Very unlikely but he still didn't know a lot about her. It probably involved more magic but after what she just did he felt much easier thinking about it. Perhaps he should give it a try and let her? In the worst case it will kill him and, honestly? He couldn't care less. The Keeper would do him a favor by putting him out of his misery.

"Very well."

"Thank you, da'len."

She spoke, apparently glad that he hadn't fully given up yet and was willing to take this chance. His eyebrows wandered up as he heard this word again. Marethari kept calling him with those two unfamiliar words in a language he did not understand. There was little doubt that it was elven but their meaning remained unknown. The native elven language was slowly dying in this quickly changing world and making place for the common tongue, hence he never cared to learn it.

"Those words you call me with.. what do they mean?"

"In Elvhen, _Alin_ means 'stranger' and _da'len_ means 'child'."

The first one was accurate, though he couldn't help but crack up with slightly painful laughter at the other. Child? That was probably the most absurd thing he'd heard in a _long_ time.

" _Child.._ You do realise I may be older than you are?"

He knew that's not possible, looking at her, but he couldn't help it. The situation was so oddly amusing. Warm even. But now it was Marethari's turn to laugh. She seemed more than happy to see him fully return to the land of living.

"Oh, I highly doubt that. I wouldn't be surprised if I was more than three times your age. To me, you _are_ a da'len. But if it offends you, you have to give me your name to use."

Almost, just almost he had given her the name Isabela bestowed upon him but he stopped the word from leaving his mouth before he even parted his chapped lips. It felt wrong. This name has lost its purpose the moment he lost his inner peace and struck one of his own. He wasn't "Taashath" any longer. The calmness has waned and been replaced by anxiety eating at him and tearing him apart from the inside. He had no right to call himself that anymore. Having a name still felt somewhat unnatural to him but so did not having one at this point. How quickly bas affect him.. and in what strange ways.. All of them have their petty names and yet it didn't feel right to him. He may be a stranger among the people of Free Marches and a year or so ago he wouldn't care. But now his own name has brought him a sense of belonging in this strange land.

"Da'len?"

Marethari asked quietly, concerned by his hesitation but he didn't know what to tell her. He laid back down with a sigh. All this has left him drained of his strength. He was tired.. Tired of running. Tired of hiding, of lying and seeking truth, answers for his questions that the doubts in his heart have raised. He was tired of life. And to think that a month ago he was perfectly content with who he was and how he lived. It all seemed so long ago now.. How oddly the time passes when one's resolve crumbles.. Furrowing his eyebrows, he hummed thoughtfully, trying to find the word he needed to answer the Keeper's question. Reflecting on all that happened to him in such short time, he finally managed to piece together what he required.

" **_Ash'talan,_ **Keeper. I am Ash'talan."

This was his final choice. Even in his sickness, this name described his purpose and his self given task. The worried expression on Marethari's face softened as she stood up, satisfied with the answer.

"Pleased to meet you."

She chimed and, picking up the wooden cup, walked back to her chest. From within she retrieved a small vial of turbid liquid and took a few dried leaves from a string above her head. After refilling the cup with hot water from the pot that has been put aside some time ago, she crushed the leaves and sprinkled the dusted remains into the cup. Then she uncorked the vial and spilled two drops of the suspicious contents into the brew. As Marethari returned to Ash'talan he smelled the strong herbal scent he didn't necessarily like. His furrowed eyebrows were speaking for him. He didn't need to ask.

"Here, drink this. The elfroot counteracts the poison and the herbal tonic will help you sleep."

Sitting up, Ash'talan took the cup from her and wearily eyed the mixture inside but he didn't think long. If the Keeper wanted him dead he would've been a corpse already. Besides, few hours ago he cared not for getting poisoned and dying so it doesn't matter much more now. He downed the bitter brew without so much a wince yet he still shuddered. It wasn't the worst thing in his life he had to swallow.

"There is still the matter of your wounds. Without magical healing they will scar."

The wounds from the duel. They still weren't fully healed. The laceration on his chin was almost closed and ready to remove stitches but the one on his side was deeper and he'd accidentally opened it few times already. It wasn't going to go that easily but neither of them was a threat to his life. Still, for a moment he considered Marethari's proposal but then he shook his head. He was fine with those wounds leaving scars. He'd earned and deserved them. If Hawke got scars from this battle, so will he. As a reminder what it had eventually cost him.

"Let them be."

A little surprised but not arguing, Marethari took the cup from him and refilled it with clean water. She then placed it next to his bedding in case he felt thirsty again. In fever it's highly possible.

"Very well. I'll leave you for now. Try to rest a little. Your body needs time to fight off the remnants of the poison."

With those words the Keeper peeled the flaps of the tent back, revealing the rest of the Dalish camp immersed in deep slumber and countless stars shimmering in the night sky that cleared out of the dark clouds hanging in the sky for the most of the day, and quietly left. The rain had long ceased its constant drumming and now the only sound in the perfect silence was the gentle wind, whistling quietly a soft tune and the chirping of crickets. From time to time Ash'talan's sensitive ears would pick up a sound of some wild animal pass by, going out on in search of food or an owl swooping through the air with a shrill cry, seeking its next prey. With a tired sigh, he laid back down. The stillness and the tonic he'd been given were working on him, swiftly pulling at his eyelids, heavy with sleep. The poison has taken everything out of him. Rest would be most welcome. Tomorrow he will talk with the Keeper about his predicament, see if she truly has the ability to aid him and relieve him of his suffering. If she spoke the truth, after it's done he will return to Kirkwall and face what he'd left behind. No more cowering and hiding. Not from her. Not from Hawke. He should've told her when they had a short moment to themselves. This would be his chance to fix at least one of his mistakes.

There was still a matter of the Antivan merchant who's after Isabela. After what she'd told him on the ship during the interrogation, he highly doubted that this Castillon is going to just leave her be. From what he'd heard, it's not that kind of a man who gives up easily and just forgives. _In time…_ He thought to himself as his tired eyes finally closed and he let the sleep take him in its embrace. Cruel, cruel embrace of the dark abyss of the bottomless ocean..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For once a relatively calm ending to the chapter 😝
> 
> Translation:
> 
> Ashkaari - "one who seeks", a prophet.  
> Basalit-an - non Qunari worthy of respect  
> Viddathari - converts to the Qun  
> Imekari - child  
> Ash'talan - a name I created from "ash" - to seek, and "talan" - truth.


	9. Healing heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keeper Marethari remains true to her word and does her best to help the broken Qunari. As he's trying to get some work done, Ash'talan meets a certain chatty elf and more or less against his will hears a story of a Grey Warden and her Qunari. 
> 
> The same day Hawke has a nightmare and a moment of peace with her friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruh, I wrote this chapter three times to make it right. It was a pain in the ass but here it is XD  
> Hope you enjoy!

To his surprise and relief, the nightmares didn't bother him that night as much as they used to in the last few days. He'd dreamt of the sea but it didn't try to devour him. It was calm and peaceful, waves gently rising up and falling in a steady rhythm. A stark contrast to the violent force of nature that wished to drag him down to his death. For the first time since he allied himself with Isabela, making one of the worst decisions in his entire life, he'd slept relatively peacefully. Whatever it was that Marethari had added to the elfroot brew, it certainly helped more than he'd expected it to. It felt good to finally let his tired mind rest as it should. How badly he needed a proper night's sleep lately..

A warm morning breeze was what finally woke him up. The golden rays of sun were spilling into the tent through the flaps fluttering lightly on the gentle wind carrying the smell of the forest. Morning air was filled with sounds of songbirds showing off their voices to their future partners as the leaves hummed quietly on the wind. Out of habit Ash'talan searched for his blade beside him but felt a short surge of panic as his fingers grasped air. But then he remembered. He'd left it in woods, without an idea where exactly. Besides, it doesn't matter as much as it did when he was still a Qunari. No one is going to kill him for losing a blade. Not anymore. And yet, it still felt strange. Without his weapon he felt awfully vulnerable.

Forcing his stiff muscles to cooperate, Ash'talan sat up with a strained grunt as his chest still burned and the overcoming feeling of nausea lingered in his gut. Though it didn't take long for him to realise he was simply hungry. He's slept for the most of the previous day and for some reason he doubted that he'd woken up early. Such a long time without moving paired up with hunger can give one a really unpleasant time. Slowly, he decided to try and pull himself up to his still shaking legs. He stood up to his full imposing height, nearly catching the fabric above his head in his horns, and raised his head proudly when he didn't keel over. Still swaying on his legs, Ash'talan walked towards the entrance, pulled away the flap of the tent and squinted at the bright sunlight that greeted him the moment he stepped out into the camp.

The Dalish elves were up and working, all of them busy with different activities. Even children were helping the adults in their chores. Either that or they were drawing in the dirt, praying to their gods or practicing their fighting skills against one another using simple sticks. Ash'talan didn't have to watch them long to take a liking to the order in the camp. No one was idle and everyone was doing something productive. Well.. he looked at a bunch of kids tossing small, flat pieces of stone into a puddle that was left from the yesterday's rain and squealing with glee whenever the skipping rock bounced off of the surface of the water.. most of them at least. Few of the adult elves busy with making arrows to their bows, probably hunters, glanced his way giving him distrustful looks before returning to their work. Two of them, a man and a woman, actually smiled instead of scowling and he figured they must've been among those who brought him to the Keeper. Speaking of whom..

"Ah, you're finally awake."

Her voice rang out somewhere to his left. Following it, Ash'talan saw her sitting on the ground with some of the children gawking at him with wild curiosity. They were apparently finishing their breakfast, judging by the small remnants of the food on their plates. The sight brought back memories of Par Vollen. It was almost like a tamassran surrounded by the young Qunari assigned to her. Marethari beckoned him with a wave.

"Andaran atish’an, Ash'talan. Come join us."

Again with the strange elven words.. But it wasn't difficult to determine their meaning, judging by the context. He chuckled inwardly as he approached the group and sat down cross legged beside Marethari, earning few delighted gasps from the children. Thinking about it now, he'd noticed most of the elves in the camp were speaking this so called "Elvhen". The Dalish seem to consider their native language very important. A commendable trait on their part. Ash'talan hummed thoughtfully as he was given his own share of cooked meat spiced with forest herbs. He'd seen a lot, been to many different places and never had he been as welcome by the bas as among the Dalish. They were most likely oblivious to what really happened in Kirkwall. Aside from few unkind stares he'd gotten used to long ago, they did nothing to show him that they spite him.  _ If only humans were like the Dalish..  _ He thought as he ate. He never would've tried to burn Kirkwall down to the ground if they didn't give him a reason.

"How do you feel?"

Marethari asked when he was done. Ignoring the burning in his chest and periodic dizziness, it was all fine. Even the nausea has passed as soon as he sated his hunger. The Keeper did good job at curing him and cleansing his body of most of the deathroot poison, he had to admit.

"As well as I can."

He murmured, watching one of the boys out of the corner of his eye as the imekari circled him and hesitantly reached out to touch his horn. There was nothing but pure fascination in his features but with how small elves are, the child couldn't reach. Ash'talan let the corner of his lips quirk upwards as he tilted his head slightly backwards to make the task easier for the boy. The child traced the rigid bone with a big goofy grin before laughing excitedly and running off to join his peers beside an elder elf sculpting in a piece of wood. Soon, Ash'talan realised he'd made a horrible mistake. Not even seconds later he was overrun by the rest of the children, all wanting to get a closer look at him and to tug at his horns. The sight must've been hilarious to the spectators. A grumpy Qunari sitting on the grass and wearing his iconic "murder glare" with like five children climbing him like he's some damn tree. He understood that he's most likely the first Kossith the imekari have ever seen but this was a bit too audacious on their part. He surely must look ridiculous. Marethari's fond smile only confirmed his suspicions. What has just transpired here, he's going to take to the grave with him. Eventually he had to stand up and shrug the tiny bas from his arms. That didn't stop them from trying to cling to him anyway. Fortunately, Marethari hurried to help him.

"Enough, da'len. Leave us. I wish to speak to our guest."

Silently thanking the Keeper for dismissing the children as they walked away slightly disappointed, Ash'talan turned to Marethari who propped herself up on her  _ saartoh-bas _ and nodded to the right, urging him to follow her. They walked to the outskirts of the camp so that they won't be interrupted. Marethari sat down on the ground and gestured him to take a seat in front of her as well. She promised to help him and so she decided to fulfil that promise. How she was going to do this remains to be seen..

"Now.. tell me what troubles you."

* * *

A female voice called as the sound of knocking on the door ripped Hawke out of her troubled sleep and the smell of a dog hit her like a charging horse.

"Messere Hawke? Are you awake?"

She jerked awake covered in cold sweat, making Charlie beside her wake with a surprised huff, as the vestiges of her dream faded from her vision. And what a dream it was.. She breathed sharply through her nose to try and hold back tears gathering under her eyelids. Once she used to sleep better in the Hanged Man than at home as the latter would remind her of her siblings and how she'd lost both Carver and Bethany. But it didn't matter now where she slept. Grasping handfuls of the bedsheets Hawke grit her teeth loudly. She knew that wherever she went, it will haunt her for a very..  _ very  _ long time.

_ It has been a grueling fight. Every misstep may have cost her her life and Isabela's life as well. But despite the horrendous pain of her broken ribs, despite all the odds stacked against her early on, Hawke has won. The deadly "dance" with the Arishok has finally ended. It was just a split of a second, a very tiny and seemingly insignificant mistake on his part but it has left him utterly exposed. This split of a second was all Hawke required as she lunged at her opponent with her greatsword clutched in both hands. This was her only chance if she wanted to live and spare Isabela from whatever the Qunari had in mind for her. _

_ For a moment the whole world ceased, all sounds faded as both her and the Arishok froze, their faces merely inches apart. The urge to close the gap was tremendous but a few drops of blood spilling from his lips stopped Hawke dead in her tracks. With her heart still pounding madly with adrenaline, Hawke stared into his widened eyes which slowly wandered down to stop at the hilt of her weapon and the blade buried deep in his body, lodged between his ribs on the left side of his chest. The blade ran him through and after a short beat Hawke realised what she'd had done. With her blood running cold, she stepped back with her sword still in her hands and as she did, the Arishok stumbled backwards, tripping on his own legs. His axe fell from his hand and hit the floor with metallic clatter, the sword soon followed. The Keep quaked as his massive body impacted with the white marble floor. Not a single one of his brethren rushed over to help him as he lay there bloodied and shocked. They all looked down and bowed their heads in a solemn farewell. Without a second thought, Hawke dropped her weapon and ran towards him, falling to her knees by his side. _

_ Arishok wasn't looking at her, the fire of determination gone from his hypnotizing eyes as Hawke lifted his pallid head ever so slightly. There was no resistance, no struggle. He was dying. Because of her. Hopelessly trying to stop the blood, red like the vitaar adorning his grey skin, from spilling from the mortal wound with only her hand she quietly spoke to him, trying to draw his unfocused look her way. And the Arishok looked at her. Every move was difficult for him, every breath a wheeze as blood trickled down his cheeks from the corners of his half parted lips. He was fading fast. _

_ It wasn't right. Hawke didn't want any of this. She should've taken her friends and her mother and left the city before it started to crumble underneath Qunari feet. And yet here she was, cradling a dying man who used to be her friend not so long ago. They rarely saw eye to eye and by human standards he was a total prick. But she loved him. Even after everything he'd done, she still does. It didn't matter that he didn't love her back. Qunari don't fall in love after all. She could accept that fact. But she could not accept that he was quickly bleeding out in her arms. There was nothing stopping her tears from rolling down her face. _

_ "Forgive me, Arishok.. I'm so sorry…" _

_ Nothing could've surprised her more than his hand slowly moving to rest over her own. With a small gasp, she looked into his dimly glimmering eyes as he gave her a slightly puzzled stare. Qunari don't cry. They don't mourn their fallen as humans do. The tears she'd shed for him were something he couldn't understand. But he did understand her grief. _

_ "Do not be.." _

_ Even in a moment like this Hawke couldn't help it and snorted at him. Easy for him to say that. Don't be sorry. Insensitive twat. But the next thing he said rendered Hawke absolutely dumbstruck. _

_ "It's.. an honor. To- to die.. at your hand.." _

_ That was possibly the greatest compliment she'd ever received from the Qunari warlord. Not that she received many before.. He wasn't a flatterer. He did call her a basalit-an, worthy of respect, but this.. The Arishok lurched upwards in a fit of coughing, spitting out crimson droplets before letting his head fall back onto Hawke's hand and breathing heavily. He had very little strength left. _

_ ".. Serah-..." _

_ He whispered but he didn't finish as his body finally went slack in Hawke's arms. The last breath escaped him. And he did not move again. He was gone. Miriam fought the sharp pain twisting her insides as she reached out with her bloodied hand and ran her fingers over his face to pull his eyelids closed over his still, unseeing eyes. Her red fingerprints remained on his skin. The Arishok was gone. Because she killed him.. _

Thankfully, someone decided to wake her up. Hawke didn't want to live through this nightmare ever again. It was so vivid, so.. real it was terrifying. So much blood..  _ his  _ blood. Never again. This was one of those moments she regretted not being a mage who's capable of influencing their dreams in the Fade. Parts of her dream still remained a mystery. What Arishok had done in his last moments in this alternate universe was confusing. It was so not like him.. Perhaps it was just her mind trying to conjure up at least some semblance of what she wished for, intertwining with her fear of him dying. Rubbing her eyes, which felt like somebody just threw a handful of sand into them, with the pads of her fingers, Hawke answered, trying her best to keep her voice still.

"I am now."

With a quiet creak the door to her room opened and a familiar face of elven blonde haired servant, Orana, peeked in shyly. Apologising.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, no, no, it's.. okay. What can I do for you?"

"Your mother was worried that you didn't come back home for the night and asked me to check on you, messere. And I would be glad to know if you are returning for dinner today."

Hawke smiled to Orana. The young elf was always so scrupulous, so hard-working and caring. As though she feared that Miriam might be displeased by her service and harm her in any way like Hadrianna. It was adorable and simultaneously heartwrenching. The poor girl didn't know any better than the life in slavery and Hawke was going to show her just what she'd been missing her whole life not even knowing it.

"Thank you, I'm well."

_ What a terrible, blatant lie.  _ She wasn't well. Not after  _ that.  _ To be honest, she didn't remember when was the last time she felt really  _ well. _

"As for dinner, I may skip this one. Don't wait for me."

Orana smiled bashfully and with a slight courtesy bow left Hawke in her room. It's unbelievable that such a well mannered young woman was wasting away under the thumb of a Magister. Cursed Tevinter and its slave market.. With a quiet groan, Hawke stretched along with her yawning mabari and decided to walk straight down into the main hall to see if any of her friends is awake yet. There was still a lot to do today. Find the blasted Qunari madman for example.. How surprised she was to see everyone at the table, waiting for her. The moment she walked downstairs, they all simultaneously looked up at her. And Fenris gave her "the look".  _ Ah, shit. _ A flood of complaints that followed was something she was not expecting.

"Damn it, Hawke!"

"Fucking, finally!"

"There you are, sleepy-head!"

"Hawke, it's past noon already. Are you ill?"

Hawke made a raspberry noise as her face turned a faint shade of pink in embarrassment. She'd spent most of the night tossing and turning in her bed, unable to sleep despite her tiredness and when she finally dozed off.. this happened.

"Uh, sorry guys.. I've had a bad night.."

She murmured as she took a seat and was presented with already cold breakfast.

"A bad night, eh?"

Isabela chuckled and elbowed Hawke's ribs ever so slightly, almost making Miriam choke on the first bite of her food. Every goddamn time.. Swallowing hardly she gave Isabela a scolding look.

"Not in  _ that  _ way. I'm not you."

At that Varric barked out a short laugh before he could stop himself while Merrill sat there, looking innocent as always and yet grinning. She'd spent too much time in this band not to have some dirty thoughts herself. Isabela's smile faded as she released a disappointed sigh.

"Nah, Fenris wasn't in mood yesterday.."

"Am I  _ ever  _ in mood  _ Rivaini  _ ?"

Fenris scowled, putting pressure on the nickname Varric has bestowed upon Isabela. She didn't seem frazzled by that but the bluntness of the former slave made her scoff at him.

"Killjoy.."

"Let's change the topic, please."

Hawke begged. She was  _ eating _ over here, for Maker's sake. It was far too early for dirty jokes. She didn't want to start her day by throwing up. Just as she was about to carry on, the door to the tavern opened. They looked up to see the last person Hawke was expecting to see.

"Anders?! What are you doing here?"

The healer folded his arms with a smile, eyeing their group. He was supposed to stay few more days in bed but Hawke honestly can't have expected to keep him there by force. He had a clinic to run after all. Besides, he seemed to look much better than yesterday. He was no longer pale as a corpse and his eyes didn't have this feverish gleam to them. Anders walked in and sat beside her. If he felt and looked fine, it shouldn't be a surprise that Leandra finally allowed him to leave.

"Just checking if you aren't having too much fun without me."

As he took place, Fenris narrowed his big greenish eyes at the mage. There was a nasty retort coming, Hawke could feel it from a mile away. And it soon turned out she wasn't wrong.

"We were having fun.. Until you showed up."

"Oh, ha ha, Fenris. Really funny."

Hawke snickered at them and quietly finished her food as they kept snapping at one another. There was no possibility of Anders and Fenris not arguing with each other while placed in the same room for even a short moment. It was just the way they were and to be honest Hawke loved them for it. She didn't want them to change. Ever. Swallowing the last piece of bread, Hawke prepared to give Anders a full report on what they'd done a day before and what she was up to today.

* * *

"This is not the right way."

Marethari said as Ash'talan finished talking. His eyebrows descended in a frown. She still did nothing peculiar to relieve him of his pain. But he decided to stay patient and give her a chance. Not that he minded her keeping her magic to herself. Even after how gently she'd been handling it, he still felt uneasy about it.

"This sickness.. it tears you apart and you musn't let it. But don't fight it either. Both paths are likely to lead you to destruction. Learn to accept and live with it for all suffering has its purpose. Don't feed your pain any longer. Remember this, da'len and live on. After a time it gets easier to bear all this, you see.."

Once again he had trouble with getting a grasp on her way of thinking. And the worst part about it was that he knew she's  _ right. _ He didn't know how to answer that. Maybe he  _ should _ give it a try, accept what lies within him and it might even work but the nightmares are something beyond his control. If neither he himself nor anyone else will end him, then the lack of sleep most likely will. And it will be a long and torturous end.. Almost as if sensing his thoughts, the Keeper spoke.

"I can help you with the troublesome dreams but you need to give me some time."

_ It's still better than nothing, _ he mused. What Marethari said made him think. He'd never needed a tamassran's help in this particular way, who knows if it's not what they tell the sufferers? Well.. at least if it doesn't work, he might always ask someone to hit him with a stick. Works most of the time.. Not to appear ungrateful for all the aid, he bowed his head respectfully.

"You have my thanks, Keeper."

"Come to me later and I should have what I need. Malas amelin mala atish’an. I hope you find your peace.."

She said before standing up and leaving him alone with his thoughts. And as she disappeared behind one of the tents, Ash'talan realised how much weight has been lifted from his shoulders. The Keeper didn't do much, simply listened to him talk about his Asala-taar and gave him a spiritual advice. Perhaps it was all he needed? Keeping the pain cramped up inside was eventually going to kill him. Throwing this all out felt so.. refreshing. Even though it shouldn't have been possible, the Keeper actually managed to help him. Only ever so slightly but it still made this sharp stabbing in his chest, wounding him like a knife in the heart with each move go away. Amazing.. Despite being a Saarebas, she would make an excellent tamassran. Watching her leave, Ash'talan hummed to himself. He'll still have to be careful though. Fortunately, he knows what makes him panic and that's exactly what he's going to avoid. It's a shame.. He used to enjoy gazing out at the sea.. No matter. If it's done, then he'll soon have to head back to Kirkwall. The mere thought makes him shudder. This chaotic city was always leaving a bad taste. Here, in this camp in the middle of nowhere, even though he hadn't been here for long, Ash'talan could say he almost felt like home. Every member of the clan had the assigned purpose. The certainty they were giving was reassuring, comforting. Here he felt.. alive again. No wonder some of the elves find it so easy to convert to the Qun. In many ways, it's similar to the way they used to live. The Dalish weren't as strict as the Qunari but the similarities were numerous.

If he indeed plans on returning to the cursed city, he needed to get ready. Gather what little things he had with him, maybe try and find his sword (once again, he won't go to Kirkwall defenseless even if he was offered a second chance to live under the Qun in exchange), and if not then find any weapon he could use. And whether he plans on getting into scuffles or not, he should think about making some vitaar. It's been a while since he had it on him and without his armor he felt terribly exposed. It was still there in that cave on the Wounded Coast along with his waraxe. He'll have to retrieve it someday.. For now, vitaar will have to do. Without any defense, one wrong move could cost him his life should he misstep in battle. There were plenty of plants he could use growing around in these woods. He only needed a knife and some vessel.

Those weren't hard to come across. Some of the Dalish were a actually willing to borrow him their tools and few even offered to help him but he knew this is a really bad idea. To non Qunari, coming in contact with fresh viraar was a death sentence. A vision of agonizingly slow death in horrendous pain. Besides, it's not like he required help in gathering few weeds and grinding them down into a paste. And there was still the ritualistic part of the vitaar. He didn't expect bas to understand it. It took him quite a while to get away from the excited children. They really seemed to like him for whatever reason and most of the elder elves have found it endearing. No mention of this to anyone. Ever. He couldn't blame them for curiosity natural to their age but it didn't mean he appreciated being swarmed by tiny things he could step on.

With very little effort, Ash'talan has found a place at the base of the great mountain near the camp where he'd discovered plenty of rashvine. It could do. At least the irritant properties of the plant were none of his concern. His skin was far less sensitive than humans' for instance. The only thing that he disliked about this spot was a large cavern to his right. It reeked of long dried blood, rotting flesh and the air had this acrid tint to it. Hard to say what creatures could dwell within. Glancing at the cave mouth from time to time, Ash'talan focused on picking the rashvine.

He let his thoughts drift to the Keeper's words, repeating them over and over again in his mind. What she asked of him was difficult, albeit not impossible. It may take a lot of time but it  _ is _ doable. If it was worth a shot, the time will show. He continued his work, thinking if what the Keeper said had any hidden meaning. With the bas you'll never know.. But as he carried on, he eventually got a strange sensation of being watched. It was slowly getting obnoxious, then finally unsettling. He looked to his right. Nothing, no eyes in the cavern. Eerie.. It was probably nothing and he's getting paranoid again. Unless.. As an odd, unfamiliar scent or raw leather reached him, he knew he's not imagining things. With a sudden realisation, Ash'talan whips around.. to see a hunched, wide-eyed, blonde haired elf in leather armor gawking at him. For a moment he thought him one of the Dalish but something was off. His armor had a completely different design, more human in its appearance than the classic elven gear. His face, much darker than the elves he'd seen, something comparable to the sallow complexion of the grim elf Fenris, had no characteristic markings, except for a black, curved tattoo on his left cheek.  _ Ben-Hassrath  _ was his first thought but the initial panic waned as he noticed a dead rabbit in the elf's hand. A spy or an assassin wouldn't be on a mission waving a deceased animal around. Judging by the pose, which he froze in, he was trying to sneak. But not up on Ash'talan. Rather past him without getting his attention. The elf visibly hesitated under his hard glare.

"Oh, shoot- Uh. Hello there."

His scowl only deepened as the intruder spoke with a thick foreign accent. It was similar to Isabela's but even stronger. A nervous grin on his face only made Ash'talan glare even harder.

"What do you want?"

He growled at the elf. He could say with all certainly that if it's not a Ben-Hassrath assassin then he doesn't have interest in anything the little bas has to offer him.

"I.. was hoping to avoid conversation, actually.."

A short pause fell between them as Ash'talan measured the elf for a second. After spending so much time with Hawke, he knew a chatterbox when he saw one and this man was certainly one of them so his answer wasn't exactly convincing. If he was attempting to avoid a conversation then what is he still doing here? With a quiet scoff, the Kossith turned back to his work, slashing at another plant with his knife and stuffing it into the bowl but remaining on alert.

"Carry on then."

He had no idea who this was and he couldn't care less about it. There were other, far more important things on his mind right now. But as the elf spoke again, he closed his eyes, silently begging for patience anything that could grant it.

"It's strange to see a Qunari in these parts, is it not?"

Not even turning around to face the elf, who insisted on pestering him, Ash'talan released a sigh borderline with growl of annoyance. Ash'talan wasn't even mad at him for calling him what he no longer is but still.

"Perhaps my memory deceives me, but I could've sworn you wished to  _ avoid conversation. _ "

The elf grumbled under his breath but he clearly wasn't one to give up easily. Ash'talan's suspicions turned out to be true. Definitely one of those whose mouth never shuts.

"Charming.. I think I had a companion like you once."

Well,  _ that  _ piqued his interest. Especially because the elf didn't specify if this "companion" of his was simply similar in character or an actual Qunari. Though Ash'talan had a difficulty imagining what kind of self-respecting Qunari would put up with the chatty elf. Turning to the obnoxious bas, Ash'talan dubiously raised an eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

Soon he discovered that he never should've said a word to the elf and remained quiet.

Somehow, the elf calling himself Zevran Arainai, a former assassin on the run from his comrades, managed to go from being "unwilling to talk" to telling Ash'talan the whole story of the Lady Amelia Cousland, the "Hero of Ferelden" and the Fifth Blight he used to be so curious about. When he was still the Arishok, Ash'talan has heard many tales of the legendary Grey Wardens and their battle prowess but to hear that the Hero of Ferelden was a woman.. If he hadn't met Hawke and seen that despite being female she makes a capable warrior, he wouldn't have believed the assassin. Though what baffled him the most was the mention of a hornless Sten who joined Amelia in her quest to slay the Archdemon threatening her land. Ash'talan knew exactly who Zevran spoke of but he thought that the man had perished in the strange, blighted lands, far away from home as he never heard a word from him. Even after over a year. Not that it didn't make him glad. Sten was a good and loyal soldier. The Qunari would've lost much with his demise. If he was coming back, then Ash'talan must've been on the hunt for the thief of the relic by then.

What surprised him even more than the Sten joining the Grey Wardens, was him  _ trusting  _ this particular one with his life. Zevran said that Lady Amelia Cousland and Sten of the Beresaad were inseparable.  _ Well, he did try to chop her head off once.  _ He said.  _ But then she broke his nose and they were fast friends again. You people are weird.. _ It was obvious that Zevran recalled the whole thing with great fondness, though he seemed saddened that the Warden didn't respond to his courting. Just as Ash'talan didn't want to speak with the assassin before, the situation in which the Sten has found himself was something he couldn't give a rest. It seemed somewhat similar to his own predicament.

"Inseparable, you say?"

"Aye. I could never catch the lady alone to talk to her back then. He was always  _ there. Leering _ at me. Gave me the creeps.. Seems fair, considering I tried to kill her once. Heh, you should've seen her face that one time Sten got shot with a poisoned arrow. No words could've calmed her down! And she refused to leave the poor delirious Sten. For  _ three days.  _ Can you imagine?  _ Three days! _ "

Zevran laughed merrily. The lighthearted way the assassin was talking about it was somewhat disturbing. But not surprising. He used to kill people for money. To him death wasn't something to fear as long as no one important to him had to die.

"And I tell you what, I thought it was only her but no! When our camp was attacked by those shriek-things and Amelia got wounded, Wynne had to toss a paralysis spell on Sten so he wouldn't tear her arms off for getting near the Warden. I think it was the first time I saw him panicking, actually.."

A month ago, as the Arishok, he would've frowned upon such actions but now he could relate. If fact, it was a little unsettling how similar his and Sten's situations were. Far too similar for his comfort.

"How did the Warden earn such loyalty?"

"Ah, saved his arse a couple times.. punched him in the face once, found his sword, murdered a high dragon with him.. I'm not sure how  _ exactly _ , he simply started to call her by a nickname one day.."

To stand against the Bligh was an achievement in itself but slaying an ataashi was a great deed without a shadow of a doubt. Especially a fully grown one. But Ash'talan's curiosity was not yet satisfied.

"A nickname?"

"Yes. Wait, what did he call her.? Kadan? Yeah, Kadan."

At that, Ash'talan's heavy eyebrows rocketed up in astonishment. Zevran clearly was oblivious to the meaning of this word as he didn't seem to care in the slightest. Strangely enough, his only regret seemed to be that he failed to seduce the Warden, for some reason. It was like talking to male version of Isabela.. This term is not used lightly among the Qunari and yet Sten decided to call a  _ human _ of all things his Kadan. It was somehow embarrassing to think that he was braver than the Arishok himself. He wouldn't dare to call Hawke Kadan. Not yet at least. Not noticing Ash'talan's shock, Zevran continued, only adding to his building up confusion.

"And when we found out what that half of a dragon's tooth he'd given her later means.. Oh, the look on Morrigan's face. Priceless! She was trying  _ so  _ hard to get together with Sten and he just went 'Nah' and proceeded to scare her with the talk of a heated iron pry bar to get him off her during sex. And the best part was that you never knew if he was being serious or joking! He was a true genius."

For some reason Ash'talan figured he didn't want to hear more details. Talking with Zevran was getting increasingly weird as he kept going. He'd lost interest after the the part about the tooth. He responded with a "huh" and returned to the task he'd forgotten about completely. The wooden bowl was lying abandoned by his leg, with the rashvine inside under a small stone. He needed a while to think. The elf however, didn't seem to be quite done yet.

"I wasn't really surprised when Amelia sailed with Sten back to Seheron. I wonder if she'd returned by now.."

Ash'talan wasn't listening anymore. Didn't want to. There was that and the need to reconsider everything he'd heard. Well, the valuable parts of it, that is. Sten just like him knew nothing of human culture and their ways. And yet he managed to get through with this without so much of a hitch. Perhaps that's what  _ he  _ should do? Just act instead of cowering? He knew one thing for sure. He needed his certainty and conviction back to succeed. It's ridiculous, really. The former Arishok learning from a Sten to court a human.. It almost, just almost made him laugh. Though this short moment of amusement disappeared as Zevran kept talking. He really just wished the blasted elf to go away.

"But enough about me. Perhaps you have some stories to share, no?"

" _ No. _ "

The assassin's eagerness waned and faded along with his wide smile. He seemed to finally have understood that Ash'talan was done talking with him.

"Ah. The good, old fashioned Qunari 'no' of displeasure.. Did I overstay my welcome?"

"Yes."

"Oh well. I'll be on my way then."

"As you should."

Zevran pulled himself up from the ground and collecting his rabbit headed towards the suspiciously smelling cave. He either knew what he was doing, or was incredibly stupid, Ash'talan couldn't really tell. Right before disappearing inside, Zevran turned to him and called

"Hey, should you meet Isabela somewhere, send her my regards!"

_ Ah. _ That explains a lot. Ash'talan ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. That's one way to waste few hours.. He had enough worries without the elf assassin babbling nonsense. Returning to the task at hand, he began whispering the right prayer as he suspended his left hand above the bowl, putting the knife's edge on it. The words flowed fluently without a pause as he sliced his palm open and let the blood drain into the vessel beneath. When it was done, he abruptly came to a halt and proceeded to wrap his hand with a piece of clean bandage he'd taken on his way out of the camp as well, allowing the blood to mix with the prepared plants. He didn't want to lose too much vital fluids after the hell he lived through yesterday. It would be inadvisable.

It felt almost strange to be painting the markings on his skin again. This sensation of prickling, like needless wherever he touched was familiar and yet reminded him of all he left behind to make it up to this point. The Keeper was right. He'd done too much to just give up right now. Ash'talan regarded his handiwork before washing the rest of the vitaar from his fingers in a nearby puddle. Then he looked up at the sun. It was leaning more and more towards the horizon as the day has turned into late afternoon. After the vitaar dried, he slowly headed back to the camp, still glancing back at the cave where the elf Zevran disappeared. The strange man, unlike any assassin he'd ever met, shared too much information. All those uneasy thoughts swirling around in his mind eventually made his head ache. He'd need a lot of time in solitude to digest all this..

As he reached the camp he realised with a jolt that he should probably get going. There was nothing holding him back anymore. After giving back the cleaned tools back to the young elven lass who'd borrowed them to him, he headed to the tent he was occupying a day before. Both his scarf and the mask were there. Picking it up in silence, he looked around the tent with a ghost of a smile on his face. Were it not for the Keeper, he'd have been dead. In a contrast to what he felt yesterday, he was glad. Perhaps he should start to believe in fate as it clearly has plans for him, not allowing him to die one way or another. His ears have caught a faint sound of footsteps behind him and just as he'd expected, he'd seen Marethari enter.

"There you are. I was afraid you ran off."

"Your concerns were unnecessary."

Marethari eyed him from head to toe, regarding his warpaint and scowling slightly at the bandage on his hand. Then she sighed.

"I'm assuming you're taking your leave?"

"Yes."

Nodding, the Keeper brought up her hand and as her fingers opened, Ash'talan noticed something on her palm. It was a carved, wooden pendant on thin leather straps. Its surface was inscribed with runic symbols he did not understand. His eyebrows rose up in a mute question.

"This talisman wards off nightmares. Just as I promised."

The Keeper said as she slipped the amulet into his hand that was like twice the size of hers if not more. Ash'talan stared at the pendant in his hand for a moment. It has been carved with care and artful precision. Oddly enough, the material looked like plain wood but felt hard as any metal to the touch. Even though he was no mage, he could sense the faint thrumming within the enchanted amulet. Once again he smiled to himself. The care which the Keeper had shown him was extraordinary. No one forced her to help him and yet she did. Perhaps that's what it felt like to have a mother.

"How can I repay you, Keeper?"

With a smile, she looked up at him.

"Promise me something, da'len."

"Of course."

Her serene expression faded to worry and sorrow. Just like when he'd told her he wished to pass on.

"Promise me you will never give up."

Looking down at the amulet for a second, he hummed. Even after all this she didn't expect him to return the favor.. Strange, strange little woman.. That was a reasonable request on her part and if that's how she wants him to repay her, then so be it.

"Meravas. Your efforts will not go to waste."

"Ma serannas, da'len."

It was time to bid a farewell. After tying the gifted talisman around his neck, Ash'talan picked up his scarf and draped it over his shoulders. Putting the mask on came so naturally to him now that he did it without even noticing. Just before he stepped out of the tent, he stopped for a moment and turned to look back at the kind elf who'd shown him the light even in the darkest of night. He gave her a nod. Even though their languages were so different, they easily understood each other.

"Panahedan, Keeper."

"Dareth shiral, Ash'talan."

It felt oddly unsettling to leave this place. Ash'talan has been here merely for a day and yet it was almost like leaving home behind. With a quiet scoff he shook his head. Who would've thought that sentimentality is contagious? Glancing back at the camp for the last time, the former Qunari warlord walked off towards the woods.

He still had few hours of daylight left but he kept his pace quick. He didn't wish to linger more than necessary. Keeping an eye out for his lost blade, Ash'talan silently moved through the forest, feeling growing unease with each step he took towards Kirkwall. This unease wouldn't stop him however. He could see why the Dalish were fond if this place. With the smell of nature, fresh and wonderful and the songs of birds amongst the tree branches it felt so.. peaceful. After a half an hour or so of walking, his sensitive ears have caught sounds of footfalls. Few sets of them in fact. Slowly drawing closer. And voices. Familiar voices. His heart hastened as the bushes shuddered and soon a small group walked into sight, freezing as they set their eyes on him. Ash'talan didn't even care about the three of them. He was dimly aware of Isabela's presence as he stared at them. His whole attention was focused on the woman leading the party. With short hair the color of charcoal, wide, shimmering cobalt eyes and a smear of red paint across her nose. Suddenly, all he could smell was lavender.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all Grey Warden/Sten relationship fans, here's some extra flavor :D  
> Now the transition
> 
> Elvhen:  
> "Andaran atish'an" - formal elven greeting, literally "enter the place of peace"  
> "Ma serannas" - thank you  
> "Dareth shiral" - farewell, literally "safe travels"
> 
> Qunlat:  
> "Meravas" - so shall it be.  
> "Panahedan" - farewell, literally "take refuge in safety"  
> "Vitaar" - poison armor  
> "Kadan" - "where the heart lies", term used by Qunari for those close to them  
> "Saartoh-bas" - mage's staff
> 
> Also..
> 
> *CLIFFHANGER INTENSIFIES* 😂


	10. Isolated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunion doesn't go quite as planned and that leads to many unpleasantries. For both sides. And just as Hawke decides what to do next, a tragedy strikes her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell, it was a long wait! I wholeheartedly apologize to you, guys but so much has been going on lately! We had to choose a new president and the tensions were out of this world because politicians kept doing dumb shit and still people wanted to vote for a jerk who didn't even know which part of Poland he wished to be from XD
> 
> Then I had to register on few websites so that I can continue studying and also I was playing the shit out of Dark Souls 3 (screw you Sulyvahn, you beautiful bastard, now I want o write about you an my OC too. I'm looking at you too, Leonhard XD).
> 
> But here it finally is.

"There you are, you prick!"

Ash'talan snapped out of the short disorientation as Isabela walked up to him clearly angry with the general spite aiming at him.. The reason of her ire was quite easy to see. Literally. The sight of a big black bruise around her left eye made Ash'talan cringe a little. He remembered that one well. She had all rights to be cross with him and he wasn't going to stop her from taking it out on him. If she wants to hit him, then fine. He well deserved it after all. A little unnerved by their sudden appearance, he looked at the rest. Varric was there with his usual cheery expression. The grim elf Fenris stood there as well with arms crossed and eyeing him suspiciously. And Hawke. On the head of the group, in her iconic dark-colored armor with her well muscled arms exposed, showing the many scars on her brilliant skin. She was rolling her beautiful eyes, apparently annoyed for some reason. This reason might as well be that they have been searching for him for two days, considering what Isabela said. Ash'talan took a step back grunting in surprise as Isabela furiously shoved against his stomach and pointed to the black eye that was slowly turning green on the edges.

"Like.. Ow! Don't you ever do that again, you big jackass!"

He nervously scratched his wrist, not sure what to say to that. Not that he had anything to say, to be honest. He gave Isabela an awkward wince and a shrug. It was her turn for the eyerolling.

"I'll take that as an apology.."

She muttered with a halfhearted smile. Ash'talan looked up to search for Hawke again when he suddenly noticed the grim elf squinting at him. Measuring. Then his eyes widened with a slight hint of disbelief and.. recognition. His lips parted in a mute gasp of surprise as one of his hands wandered up to the hilt of a sword strapped to his back. There was no doubt.  _ He knows.  _ It wasn't so unexpected. Fenris was always very observant and difficult to fool. At his agitation, Varric gave him an eyebrow up. Discreetly, Fenris nodded towards Ash'talan and as Varric looked back at him, at first in confusion, then in understanding. And when he fully realised what the elf was trying to say, his jaw fell open.

"Holy shit."

_ Well, it's about to get interesting.. _ Fenris finally drew his sword and stepped in front of Hawke in a protective act. Such loyalty.. Ash'talan decided to take that as a compliment as he wasn't even armed. Not that he was completely defenseless but still. Without his sword, it would be difficult to do any serious harm even if he meant it, which he didn't. Miriam looked at her friend with confusion.

"Fenris, what the hell?"

"Use your eyes, Hawke. Look at him!"

He simply stated, keeping his defensive stance and not letting Ash'talan out of his sight. He frowned as he noticed Varric pull his crossbow out. He wasn't aiming yet but he was ready to do so at any given moment. Varric saw what happened to Hawke at the Keep. They weren't taking any chances. Even though he again felt like he was about to drop dead, Ash'talan knew what must be done. The cover was blown anyway, there was no need to continue this charade. Everyone will find out sooner or later with the former being more possible. Even though Isabela was trying to defuse the situation, there was no point in keeping this up. The pirate queen turned to the rest with feigned surprise but it was far too late for that.

"What are you-?"

"No, Isabela."

At the sound of his deep voice Hawke's head snapped up, her eyes bulging out of her eye sockets. Of all the people, she knew his voice best. Almost there years of frequent visits in the compound came into fruition. Varric huffed quietly as what Fenris claimed turned out to be true. Even Isabela looked back at him shocked.

"No more hiding."

He said as he lifted his hands to undo the leather straps around his horns. To hell with consequences. He had enough of lying and cowering in shadows from the very person he wished to make up with. The golden mask of a Saarebas silently fell to the ground and Ash'talan could hear Hawke gasp sharply. Without the vizier of his mask in the way, she was even more stunning. Ash'talan wanted to turn away but he couldn't drop the half horrified and half delighted stare Hawke had given him.

"You-"

Miriam stared at the Qunari in front of her with her jaw slack in disbelief. Despite how impossible it seemed merely seconds ago, here he stood in all his glory. The moment he spoke she knew what she was about to see (yet she still refused to believe) and even though she felt her heart skip a beat as the mask finally fell. She almost forgot to blink. The Arishok himself. The same as she remembered him and yet.. somehow different. None of his pride remained visible in him, his shoulders slumped, head lowered in defeat. His falcon-like eyes, previously burning with authority and conviction were now sunken and dull. He no longer walked with certainty and seemed to hesitate before each move he made. Her heart was about to rip itself free from her chest as she eyed the Arishok from head to toe. She wanted to kick herself, how could she not see it before? Everything was adding up. Everything. She didn't imagine the look of golden eyes in the tavern. He was looking at her back then. Just as he was looking at her now. And this look was turning her bones to jelly. Simultaneously she wanted to laugh and cry but there was something else building up inside of her, filling her with new energy. Burning and sour. Unstoppable. The liar has been hiding from her like a coward after he turned on her when she trusted him the most. He purposely tried to cause her untimely demise. He had _murdered_ innocent people. The sight of Dumar's head rolling down the marble steps made her want to vomit. This scorching feeling grew stronger, pushing the joy away. _Rage._

Hawke's mouth snapped shut, her teeth clamped loudly. Her eye twitched as she suddenly jumped forward..  _ pounced _ like a jungle puma to be more precise.. with an almost inhuman screech on her lips. Everyone present was taken aback. Fenris blinked dumbfounded as he realised he needn't protect Hawke from the Arishok. It was Arishok who needed to be protected from Hawke. Luckily Isabela was standing in her way and managed to grapple Miriam before the latter had a chance to do anything stupid. It didn't stop Hawke from yelling till her throat was in shreds though.

" _ AAAAAAA!! You son of a motherfucking, qualaba vashedan Qunari bitch, piece of shit-!! _ "

Ash'talan took another step back, gawking at Hawke struggling to get out of Isabela's grasp and yelling. Astonishing, how much she could scream out on one breath. Even Fenris was absolutely dumbstruck at Hawke's sudden outburst while Varric even through the horror on his face was visibly impressed. Isabela tried to pull Hawke away from Ash'talan as she kept kicking and screaming.

"There, calm down, there's no need for that. Hawke!  _ Hawke, calm down! _ "

Eventually, after few minutes of yelling, Hawke stopped struggling and simply tugged herself free from Isabela's arms, breathing heavily as though she just ran a hundred miles, but she wasn't even near to being done. There were tears glistening in her sapphire eyes. Tears he couldn't bear to see.

"Motherfucker, shit-balls, son of a- Guh!  _ Twat! _ "

She groaned and unsheathing one of two greatswords on her back tossed it to the ground and stormed off. Ash'talan blinked. That was.. something. He was expecting hurt, disbelief, anger too. But not _that much_ anger. To be perfectly honest, he didn't understand ninety percent of what Hawke was shouting. The full extent of her fury was truly a sight to behold. He wasn't easily frightened but he had to admit that Hawke's wrath unleashed was bloody _terrifying._ All the birds around fell silent, most likely startled by the ruckus and the forest turned eerily quiet for a moment, as though every living being in a mile radius suddenly breathed its last. Then all eyes turned to him.

"Well.. shit man.."

Varric finally broke the silence with his eyes still wide and rubbing his forehead. Fenris said nothing, only nodded, looking back towards where Hawke had gone with apprehension. Isabela pulled her hair back from her face.

"To put it lightly."

" _ That  _ was fucking  _ terrifying _ and it wasn't even directed at me!"

_ Lucky him  _ Ash'talan thought still shaken by this sudden bucket of bile spilled all over his head. Looking down, he noticed the blade that Hawke tossed to his feet. A familiar one. He's been looking for it.  _ Ah, there it is. _ He mused as he carefully bent down to pick his missing sword and place it where it belonged in the sheath on his back. With it there he already felt a little more safe. Then he glanced up at the rest of Hawke's companions. Fenris didn't even seem put off by his presence anymore since he showed no signs of hostility, instead glaring at Isabela.

"You knew about it?"

"Yeah, I did…"

"Care to explain,  _ Isabela _ ?"

The pirate queen scratched the back of her neck and looked back at Ash'talan, still in utter shock at what just happened here. In truth, she was just as surprised as he was. Who could've expected  _ that?  _ Turning to Fenris and noticing that Varric also waits for her answer, she clicked her tongue. What a mess she's been caught up in..

"Well… I.. may have lied. Again. So I guess I  _ do _ owe you an explanation."

Ash'talan wasn't even listening to her as he stared at the empty space above Fenris' shoulder where Hawke once stood. He knew that he deserved each and every single one of those insults but to hear them with his own ears.. This blind rage twisting Hawke's face, this fury gleaming in her eyes.. It somehow wounded him deeper than any blade could. He absent mindedly reached up to his chest when his heart quivered painfully inside. But honestly, after stabbing Hawke in the back, what else was he expecting?

"So you're trying to tell us he's a good guy now?"

Varric snorted as Isabela finished her story. She shrugged. That's one way of putting it.

"Sort of."

"And he wants to talk to Hawke and be cool with her again?"

"Yep."

Scratching his head, Varric looked back in slight unease.

"Well, it didn't go so well, didn't it?"

Still wary, Fenris put his weapon away and sighed.

"She needs a moment to breathe, take it in. She'll calm down eventually."

"You think so? It maybe works for you but I've never seen Hawke so pissed.."

Varric mused, glancing up at the Qunari staring at nothing in particular with that grim look on his face. Following his gaze, Isabela raised her eyebrows. Ever since she spoke to the Arishok about Hawke for the first time, she knew that he's somewhat infatuated with her. But seeing him just standing there, with the look of a beaten dog, was something she never expected to see.

"Taashath?"

She asked, receiving no reaction whatsoever. A slight panic invaded her mind as she realised he might be locked in his own dimension again. Throwing a light punch to his shoulder worked a little better.

"Hey! Taashath!"

He looked down at her with resignation. Right, she had no idea. How could she? Isabela wasn't in the camp. And in truth, a part of him was glad.

"Do not call me that."

He murmured grimly. Isabela frowned at that.

"Uh.. why?"

"This name no longer serves its purpose. I'm Ash'talan."

Crossing her arms, slightly offended, Isabela huffed out a short laugh. It's been two days and yet she had much catching up to do. She wanted to know where  _ exactly _ he'd been hiding and why. They flipped entire Kirkwall upside down to find him.

"Well. So much for our friendly bonding, I guess.."

His eyebrow raised up at this. Neither of them was paying attention to Varric and Fenris gawking at him and Isabela having a casual conversation.

"I never said that."

To her own surprise it was a relief to hear that. Isabela never thought she'd ever live to hear the Arishok of all people openly admitting to their friendship. She was honestly hesitating to call it that but now she had no doubts. And she definitely didn't mind. So far Ash'talan has proved to be a valuable ally. Smiling up at him she batted her eyelashes.

"Aww, I'm your friend? I'm flattered."

"If you two are done, I suggest getting back to Kirkwall before the nightfall."

Fenris grumbled, apparently having long given up and not caring about or simply unable to wrap his head around what was happening anymore. It was too much to take on without a drink. It's not a talk to go through sober. Ash'talan raised his eyebrow.  _ Get back to Kirkwall? _

"Assuming it yet stands."

"Heheh, I think I might actually like you."

Varric laughed even though Ash'talan was dead serious about it as Hawke looked like a stormcloud when she left. He wouldn't put it past her to demolish something while in a killer mood. Apparently among bas this would be considered a joke. Ash'talan didn't feel like laughing. At all. Not after Hawke nearly tore his face off. Growling quietly, he kneaded his temples. He was getting a headache again. Both Varric and Fenris turned and walked off before Isabela picked his mask from the ground and handed it to him, urging him to follow. The mask stared up at him from his hands with its hollow eyes. He could follow. But.. was it even worth it anymore? His hand wandered up to rest over the talisman hidden beneath his scarf.

_ Promise me you will never give up. _

Qunari never go back on given promises. Even if he was no longer one of them, he didn't mean to break that promise. The scraps of his honor wouldn't allow him.  _ I won't give up.  _ He told himself. He couldn't. Not now. Took a deeper breath and lifted the mask back up to his face. Isabela waited for him patiently. Funny. The last person, who decided to stay at his side, was  _ her  _ of all the people. A pirate and a thief who started this whole mess. Perhaps the sorts of her are the only ones he can trust now? Hawke seemed to trust her. And so far he saw no reason not to do the same.

"So, where have you been? We were running all around looking for you!"

Isabela finally asked him, trying to fill in the silence of the travel. It came as no surprise. She'd always been a curious woman and whether he liked it or not, she treated him like a legitimate friend of hers. Some time ago he would've scoffed at her for that but considering what he'd just witnessed, he'd probably need a friend.

"The Dalish elves have found me in the forest. I spent some time among them."

This time it was Varric who spoke next. At first Ash'talan thought neither the dwarf nor the elf will engage in a conversation with him but apparently he'd been mistaken. Fenris didn't seem keen on speaking to him but much like Hawke Varric looked like a big chatterbox. He probably couldn't miss the opportunity to chat. Even with the Qunari he would've shot without hesitation should he ever try anything.

"Wait.  _ Found  _ you? As in, they came to you and not the other way around? I thought you were running in their direction."

With a wince Ash'talan realised he said a little more than he meant to. He didn't want to expose this momentary weakness in front of people he didn't know that well. Old habits never die. With a quiet murmur, he shot Varric a glare.

"I was.. unwell."

"As in.. physically unwell? Last time I saw you, you were perfectly capable of punching me unconscious."

Isabela questioned with a hint of sarcasm in her voice, still rightfully angry about the black eye. Now Fenris too looked back at him curiously.  _ Vashedan. _ Ash'talan didn't want to lie but he didn't wish to speak of this either. And that left him with only an uncomfortable silence as an answer. They waited for a moment but when it became apparent that he wasn't planning on saying anything, Isabela elbowed him in the ribs.

"Are you gonna tell us or what?"

"No."

"Oh, come on!"

"I said, Parshaara."

Crossing her arms, Isabela turned her nose up, pretending to be hurt. Ash'talan had learned how to recognise when she was actually mad and when just theatrically exaggerating. Her fake pouting wasn't going to make him talk. For now, only Marethari knew what happened and he preferred to keep it that way as long as possible. It wasn't the most pleasant topic. Still too fresh. It was like a deep battle wound that refused to cease bleeding. Varric only shrugged with a chuckle.

"Touchy, aren't you?"

All he had to do was shoot Varric a glare with his head bowed in a threatening manner. He was like three or four times the size of the dwarf. That was an answer enough. Shrugging, Varric chuckled. Ash'talan didn't even scowl at him for the words which left his mouth next. He was just too tired to argue and after what Hawke presented him with he found it a pathetic attempt at an insult or just a plain joke.

"Aight. Still an ass, I get it. Some things never change."

The rest of the journey to Kirkwall passed in silence as no one seemed to be in mood for conversing. Once they reached the city, the first place they headed was the Hanged Man (obviously). There weren't a lot of customers there tonight and most of them was already drunk. One of the men actually glanced up at Ash'talan as he passed by with that look of "what the hell is happening" before looking at a bottle in his hand and reluctantly putting it away. Most likely thought he's seeing things. Good that he is completely wasted or he could probably make a lot of noise.

In the safety of Varric's room, the three of them resumed the argument that had started in the forest. Ash'talan sat on a free chair by the fireplace, eyeing them as they talked clearly about him and tried to get as much information from Isabela as possible. They argued as though he wasn't even there so eventually he let out a huff and rested his chin on his hand as he stared at the fire, thinking. The knocking on the door got him to look up as the familiar voice of the mage Anders rung out before he entered, followed by Aveline and Merrill.

"Guys? What happened to Hawke? She charged through the town as though she was gonna, holy  _ fuck!" _

Anders loudly exclaimed and instantly threw up a magical barrier around himself and the ladies flanking him. Aveline, as expected, immediately grabbed her sword the moment she laid her eyes on Ash'talan. Merrill simply stared with her jaw nearly hitting the floor. A pregnant silence filled the room before Aveline stepped forward with a murderous glare. Ash'talan looked up at her apathetically, quietly wondering if she would actually try to strike him.

"Varric, what the actual  _ fuck  _ is this…  _ man  _ doing in your room?!"

"Sitting, as you can see."

Ash'talan grumbled at the guard captain who in turn glowered even harder. If she was a mage she'd most definitely start casting thunderbolts all over the room. Ignoring his answer Aveline looked back at Varric who simply shrugged.

"Don't ask me, ask Isabela."

"Why me?"

"Because you know the details best."

With a groan Isabela proceeded to explain second time this day, assuring the newly arrived guests that there's nothing to be worried about. Merrill trusted her without greater problems but remained wary of him even still. Anders was hesitant about lowering the barrier and Aveline refused to sit down, ready to call the guards any moment. Ash'talan huffed and returned to watching the dancing flames, indifferent to what was happening around him and not minding a blade that was pointing at him all the time.

* * *

It took a lot of effort to convince the three of them that Ash'talan means no harm. Aveline eventually said that "Fine. But I'll keep my eye on him.". Anders was "scared shittless" as Varric described it. The only person who almost immediately warmed up to him was Merrill. She apparently believed in second chances. Ash'talan couldn't help but sigh at how trusting the young elf was. "I say let him try. He can't become a better person if he doesn't get a chance to, right?" Too trusting and too kind for her own good.  _ She's going to hurt herself one of these days… _

When everything was more or less clear to everyone the things started to look up to Ash'talan. He always had Isabela, who still kept reminding him that the Antivan merchant is out for her blood, and Merrill along with Varric were making for a decent company, even if a little to noisy. Ash'talan stayed in a room Varric paid for for some reason but he knew that it won't take long until someone notices something off about him. Eventually he'll have to move out, possibly back to Wounded Coast.

Ash'talan barely noticed when a day turned into a week. During his stay in the Hanged Man, he'd seen Hawke a couple times and she had seen him too but every time she'd either glare or lower her eyes and immediately walk out. And every time it hurt more and more. Hawke started to act like she didn't know him. He knew that she was mad but that was a bit too much for his taste. She treated him like a stranger. Cold and harsh. He once tried to come closer and strike up a conversation he wished to have a long time ago but she just left the table, leaving her friends absolutely dumbstruck. After that Ash'talan gave up completely. If Hawke didn't want to see him, then so be it.

Retreating into a corner of the inn, with only a glass of strong alcohol to accompany him, Ash'talan secluded himself from everyone. Thinking in grim silence. Reflecting on the past when Hawke was willingly coming to him just to enjoy the time they had. He missed hearing her voice as she would always try to talk his ears off and this enchanted look in her eyes when he was telling her about his people and his homeland. Now that he thinks about it, these were days when he was truly content, even stranded far away from home in a foreign land he didn't understand. But even though Hawke would be there whenever she could, he felt so horribly lonely in her company. She was a human and he was a Qunari. Two completely different races from two completely different cultures. Even if there was some kind of bond forming between them, they were nothing alike, one always in some way misunderstood by the other. Hawke couldn't fill in the empty space that remained after he was all but banished from Par Vollen, no matter how hard she tried.

Miriam once told Ash'talan about her lost brother who died in the claws of an ogre when her family was escaping Lothering after the darkspawn attacked it. This, along with loss of her father some time before that, left an empty, lonely hole in her heart that she was trying to fill with his company. But eventually he realised they weren't able to help one another. Perhaps it was a mistake? It irked him to think about it but he felt like he shouldn't have allowed Hawke to visit him so often just for a small talk, that he should've had her thrown out every time she overstayed her welcome. But instead he let her come to him, chip away at his harsh exterior of a leader. And lately he could hardly think of anything else. Now, sitting alone in the corner, Ash'talan sighed deeply. Maybe it wasn't right to return? As much as he loathed to admit it, she might not be right for him.  _ Who am I lying to, of course she isn't.  _ Hawke is a human and nothing will change that just as nothing will change the fact that he's a Kossith. Their races often lived so close and yet, they seemed to be miles apart. Maybe eventually, he will stop caring and move on? Doubtful, but not impossible…  _ Damn you, Hawke. _ The only thing, which was keeping him from falling apart, was the promise he'd made to the old Keeper.  _ I won't give up. I cannot. _

"Hey there, Grey."

He reluctantly raised his head as Varric sat down next to him by his table. Ash'talan didn't crave company but he was glad to see that  _ someone  _ still remembers about him, even if it's the overly chatty dwarf. Isabela has left him to his own devices when he waved her off last time. Merrill tried to make friends with him as well but after the meaningful lack of response, she left him be as well. And now, it was Varric's time to shine. Ash'talan raised his eyebrow at how he called him. After few days in the tavern and more or less among Hawke's companions, Ash'talan has noticed that each of them has some interesting quirks. Anders was an almost fanatical defender of the mages of Kirkwall, possessed by a spirit of vengeance. Fenris was a grim man enhanced with lyrium burned into his skin who was prone to threats and sometimes even violence. Isabela he knew the best and she told him of her.. rather inappropriate hobby. But that aside, she was a skilled fighter. Aveline, the proud captain of the city guard, was just and strictly holding to the law. She was an example of what all Kirkwallers seemed to have lost at some point. Merrill, a joyful young girl, friendly, innocent and oblivious to the danger her own power poses to her. And finally Varric, a cheerful dwarf with wild imagination he needs as a writer. And also really fond of nicknames. Ash'talan's was "Grey" or "Wolf", and sometimes, very rarely, both together.

"Hmm.."

Was his only answer as he stared back into his half emptied cup. He wasn't in mood for talking. A gigantic Kossith and a dwarf sitting side by side must've looked hilarious. Luckily after few days and use of Varric's natural talent of speech all patrons eventually left the grumpy Qunari be, not giving him much attention. He wondered how much it costed Varric to satisfy their greed and get them to shut up. He'll have to ask him someday..

"You look particularly sullen today."

"You don't say."

He snapped back. Ash'talan looked sullen because he  _ felt  _ like it. Somewhere inside he hoped Hawke would eventually forgive him as he knew she used to be fond of him. He didn't ask her to forget but she didn't have to cut him off like that. If only she knew what he went through to get here just because of her.. Alas, she didn't want to talk neither with him nor about him. Forgetting about what he felt every time he looked at her, seemed to be his only option now.  _ You're eventually going to fall apart.  _ Isabela's voice echoed in his mind. She knew better. She always did.

"Damn, it's strange to talk to you as an equal."

Varric laughed. Ash'talan looked at the dwarf from behind his mask, his face like a stone. Two days ago it was Isabela who tried to talk to him about Hawke. Yesterday Merrill with her words of comfort he could hardly understand. Now it seemed to be Varric's turn to try. Who was going to come next? Fenris? Maybe Aveline. Yes, that would certainly go well.

"You were always so proud, so high above everyone on your throne and it feels weird now."

"Do you have a point, dwarf?"

Ash'talan growled before downing his drink in one swift motion. Even though he'd spent here over three hours this evening, this was still merely his second round.

"Look man, this isn't going to get you anywhere. Even Fenris can see you're miserable. You need to talk to someone."

It's not like he was trying to hide it. It's been nearly a week since Hawke yelled at him in the woods and yet she didn't seem to spite him any less. If she would only stop doing that..

"She's avoiding me."

"Yeah, I know. She's really angry.."

Of that he had no doubts. Ash'talan glanced into the empty cup with a murmur. A part of him wanted another round but in truth he didn't even feel like drinking. It was almost as though the deathroot poison was burning him from the inside all over again, draining his strength. In fact he didn't feel like doing  _ anything.  _ He just felt hollow like an empty shell. All he wanted to do is lie down and do nothing, for the first time in his life. Under the Qun there was no place for sentiment and emotions so what was happening to him now was very disconcerting. Even though he was almost certain he could identify this feeling, he still had no idea how to cope with it.

"Is this what sadness feels like?"

He asked nobody in particular as he lowered himself onto the tabletop and sighed. Lately he'd been doing it a lot more than he should. Normally he'd never confess that he really missed talking to Hawke but times have changed.  _ He  _ has changed. But for the better, or for worse?  _ I'm actually turning into a mopping human.  _ He chuckled inwardly.

"Grey, listen. I invited Hawke to a round of Wicked Grace tonight. If you leave for your room earlier, we might try and talk some sense into her."

Ash'talan slightly rose up and looked at Varric with no small surprise. He would do that? No questions, asking for nothing in return? That would be really kind of him. Not many people in this wretched city would decide to do something for free. No wonder Hawke is fond of him.

"I.. would appreciate that."

Varric patted his shoulder with a smile.

"Pull yourself together, it'll be fine."

"I do sincerely hope so."

* * *

Hawke sat in her chair stiffly as she stared at her cards. She couldn't focus on the game, the lump in her throat was nearly choking her. Ever since that evening in the forest, she's been permanently agitated. She had more spikes than Fenris lately. The blasted Qunari wasn't leaving her thoughts. He was alive just as she'd wanted and yet.. She was so furious with him! Or maybe she was just furious with herself? It didn't matter as the results were horrible in both cases. Miriam wanted to forgive the Arishok, or Ash'talan as he liked to call himself now, she really did but something in her gut was telling her she shouldn't. He betrayed her once, why wouldn't he do that again? She didn't want to talk to him, mostly because after her outburst she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye anymore (she never let out her anger like that in front of anyone) and partially because she wanted to show him how deeply he'd wounded her. The world had given her another chance at her hopeless endeavour and yet she was afraid to take it. She was afraid he'd break her heart again.

"Maker's bollocks, Hawke."

Varric's voice ripped her out of her thoughts, nearly making her jump in her seat. She wasn't even cheating tonight with how shaken she was. In fact, she'd lost three times already. Goodbye, four sovereigns.. The luck wasn't on her side. And yet everyone was looking at her. Fenris, Isabela and even Anders. What did she do this time?

"What?"

It sounded far more hostile than she intended it to and Varric immediately pointed at her with his whole hand.

" _ That!  _ For the last week you've been so tense it might seem that if I fed you enough coal, you'd start shitting out diamonds!"

At his comment, Isabela chuckled, dragging her fringe out of her face, revealing an almost healed bruise around her eye. With her dark complexion it was barely visible at this point.

"Shame it's a metaphor."

Anders snorted but his face was showing that he was grossed out by that one. And Hawke agreed with him. So did Fenris to be honest, judging by the way his mouth twisted.

"That's disgusting."

"What? Just sayin'.."

Isabela smiled and lifted her cards as though she was trying to sheepishly hide behind them but it was definitely not the case. This was the face she made when she was up to something. And considering what has just been said, Miriam didn't want to know what dirty thoughts Isabela had in mind. To be perfectly honest, Hawke hoped this would end the topic but Varric kept pressing on.

"Hawke, I know you're pissed off but you really should talk to him."

"Why?"

She snapped, putting a card down. And truth be told, she knew exactly why but she couldn't bring herself to do so. The mere thought of it paralyzed her. Unfortunately she was alone in her predicament as soon Isabela joined Varric.

"More like 'why not'."

"Exactly. Hawke look, the dude's really trying, give him some credit."

"He nearly killed me!"

Miriam hissed and she thought this would be enough for them to understand. They had seen it with her own eyes when he nearly tore her to shreds. But lo and behold, Anders, of all the people, groaned and decided to join the argument and defend the Qunari.

"And I made sure it didn't happen. Let it go already."

"What, you're taking  _ his _ side now?"

"No, I'm trying to help  _ you. _ "

With a frustrated huff on her lips, Hawke tossed the cards onto the table, backs up not to show them but everyone at the table knew that she was done playing. She knew that they mean well but right now she didn't want to talk about it. Trying to drop the subject, Miriam fisted her hands through her hair and gritted through her teeth.

"I trusted him once and I won't be making that mistake ever again."

Her heart squeezed in her chest to the point where she needed to stifle down a sob. There weren't a lot of people left in the inn but the remaining handful seemed really interested in the nature of the argument. She could even see Maaras, as always pretending not to see anything, watching them from the corner of his eye. Seeing him only amplified the grief gnawing away inside as he somewhat reminded her of Ash'talan. Audience was the last thing she needed now. As she spoke, for a moment everyone fell silent and for just this short moment Hawke thought she'd won. But then Fenris, who remained out of the conversation up until now, delivered a final blow.

"Tell me, Hawke. Is this punishment meant for him, or  _ you? _ "

With a sigh, Hawke hid her face in her hands. They were all against her. It was a losing battle with no way out. But they were right. And she knew she behaved stupidly. But she'd gone so far in it.. she didn't know how to fix it. Reflecting on the past, she really _ wanted  _ to fix that. What they had before he decided to attack Kirkwall was so beautiful. Now she had a chance to rebuild it, perhaps even make it better. And instead she wrecked it all. All of the sudden she felt like a monster. But she didn't want to admit it.

"Hawke.. do you have any idea what he did just to have a chance to see you?"

Isabela ripped her out of her musings. And Hawke felt torn. One part of her screamed "I don't want to know!" and the other was yelling "Do tell!". Eventually the latter won and she looked up curiously at her pirate friend.

"No?"

"Then let me tell you."

Isabela was angry now as well and Hawke couldn't really blame her. After all, she's been through this as well. Most of it at least.

"He tossed his life into garbage and left his ship in the middle of the ocean to, sail back on a tiny boat that got overturned. We both nearly drowned and I actually had to-"

Isabela glanced at Varric who was very much starting to enjoy her story. A slight glint of panic flashed through her eyes. Hawke raised her eyebrows. She didn't like what she was hearing but that part got her a little too curious.

"- never mind. Then it turned out he has a PTSD and almost killed me by  _ accident  _ only to run off and possibly again get himself nearly killed from what he told me last time."

Hawke's jaw dropped as Isabela finished her tale. That wouldn't have impressed her were it not for one tiny, little detail. All this was more or less  _ her fault.  _ He did it all for her. The fact that he risked his life to get here was enough to crush her. She had no idea it was that important to him. But as if it wasn't enough, on top of that he had to take on her foul mood for the last week. Her cold rejection when he only wished to make peace with her. To somehow apologise for what happened in the compound and then at the Keep. If she only knew earlier.. but she was too stubborn, too proud to ask. It was  _ her fault. _ Miriam covered her mouth with her hand to stop the incoming sob and hold back the tears. She really owed him an apology..

"Fuck.."

She whispered into her hands and immediately felt someone touch her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. Hawke looked up with a tortured look on her face to see Varric beside her.

"Talk to him. For your own sake."

It was a good thing to do. Even if there was no hope for anything more than peace, it might make her feel better. Even though he betrayed her and broke her heart, he didn't deserve her ire anymore.

"Okay, I will. Tomorrow.."

"About time, I say. Haven't you seen?"

Apparently, Isabela wasn't done yet. And before she could bite her tongue, Hawke took the bait and asked.

"Seen what?"

"The sad, puppy eyes he makes every time he thinks no one is watching!"

" _ Puppy eyes?  _ The _ Arishok?  _ I highly doubt it."

Fenris scoffed and for that Hawke was grateful. She really had a hard time imagining Ash'talan with puppy eyes. But the sole ridiculousness of the image was enough to make her feel a tad better and crack a smile.

"As do I."

Varric snickered when Isabela placed her hand over her chest and lifted the other one up.

"It's true! I swear."

After that, she started to giggle uncontrollably along with Varric as Anders quietly groaned an "oh, no…" and smacked himself in the forehead, covering his eyes and supporting his elbow on the table. And slowly Fenris was taking on a slightly worried and slightly disbelieving face. They knew something she didn't and it was pissing her off.

"What is so funny to you?!"

Hawke demanded. Varric and Isabela kept chuckling like little children, barely holding back the true strength of their laughter. Anders and Fenris refused to talk but eventually Isabela winked.

"Somebody's in love."

At that Hawke nearly choked on her own saliva.  _ No way.  _ Her eyes were now the size of two sovereigns as she looked at every single member of the game of cards that had long come to an end due to their initial argument, looking for some sort of an explanation. None was found. Finally, she managed to speak

"Wh.. What?! No, you can't be serious!"

Fenris threw his hands up in defeat and left the table to take a breather as Anders kept groaning into his hand. For the second time this night Hawke was alone in her predicament. As Varric and Isabela sing-songed

"Ash and Miriam, sitting in a tree…"

"Stop."

"K I S S I N G!"

Letting her head fall heavily onto the tabletop Hawke felt the remnants of her patience abandon her.  _ Very mature, I tell you what.  _ She thought to herself. That's enough for one night. Looking slightly up in defeat she sighed.

"Would any of you be so kind and escort me home?"

Hawke has left the Hanged Man in slightly better mood along with Varric, Anders and Fenris. Merely seconds ago she heard the news that made her feel like she could fly. If this as true, then she had a chance with Ash'talan after all. If he really felt the same way she did, then… It was too much to wrap her head around it but all she knew was that she  _ has to  _ apologize for being a bitch. And do it fast. Tomorrow as soon as she gets a moment.

The Lowtown seemed so oddly quiet tonight. No thugs, no bandits, nothing. It was a pleasant contrast to what Hawke usually had to go through. Perhaps they finally learned not to mess with her? That would be nice. She lost count how many idiots impaled themselves on her greatsword. There was no sound to be heard around, even as they proceeded into the Hightown. And just as Hawke thought the night was going to be peaceful, she'd unexpectedly met her very irritated uncle Gamlen on her doorstep.

"Miriam, where is your mother?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGER. I just couldn't resist. What do you think will happen next? 😏
> 
> Btw, before you ask, yes. There are references to songs. "Brave enough" and "Somebody that I used to know" (listen to the latter sang by Pentatonix, they're sick!)
> 
> Translation:  
> Qualaba - A type of cow that the Qunari breed known for its stupidity. (I this case Hawke is calling Arishok an idiot)


	11. Hold on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Losing a parent is a horrible experience. Miriam learned the hard way. But it's always easier when you have someone to grab onto when you're falling...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, this has been a WHILE. I'm so sorry, I can't seem to write as fast as I used to. The next chapter may take even longer because guess what? I PASSED MY EXAMS and I'm going to secondary school! 🙌  
> Right now I'm waiting for word from the colleges.  
> Oh, and before you read: FLUFF ALERT.

For the entire next day Ash'talan was hoping for any news from Varric. Preferably good ones. He was in good hope as the dwarf was really close with Hawke. He'd waited and coped with her pouting way longer than he would've liked. But still all he could do was wait. Isabela stayed at the inn to keep him company and try to teach him the rules of the card game Varric has called "Wicked Grace". He sat there mostly pretending to listen to her, picking up only bits and pieces, as he couldn't really focus on what she was saying. The waiting was killing him. Between Isabela's lessons, he headed out from the city to train in solitude for a few hours. He didn't want to weaken from idleness.

Somehow the day turned into late evening and he hadn't heard any news. He considered going to Hawke's home to see if she's there but if she is still in this nasty mood of hers, it would be pointless. He didn't wish to be yelled at again or thrown out. Besides, it would be better if he wasn't walking around Kirkwall too much. His luck may eventually run out and someone could end up finally recognising him. The last thing he needed now was the city guard and the templars chasing him all across Free Marches. As the sun set, Ash'talan returned to the Hanged Man resigned and overcome by this exhaustion that accompanied him for the last few days. Isabela was still there, because where else would she go. He took his place with a tired sigh and continued to listen to Isabela's tips on Wicked Grace if only to kill the time.

Finally, after an hour of listening to Isabela explain what each image on each card means and the value of all combinations of the said pictures, the door creaked open and the familiar dwarf walked in.  _ Took him a long while…  _ Ash'talan winced and almost walked up to Varric first. But something was off. His usual smile was gone. That alone was enough to set Ash'talan on alert but it wasn't all. There was a fresh tear on his sleeve and a stained bandage underneath. Something has happened and by all accounts it certainly wasn't a good thing. Varric made an order by the counter and soon joined Ash'talan and Isabela by the table with a drink for each of them. For a few long minutes nobody said absolutely nothing. It was unlike Varric to stay quiet for extended periods of time. The silence thickened with each passing second and eventually Isabela groaned in frustration.

"Varric, what's up? You've been sitting here for like ten minutes!"

The dwarf looked up at them grimly enough to give them both creeps before solemnly stating

"Leandra is dead."

As soon as the words left his mouth Isabela's eyes widened in horror. Ash'talan didn't know who exactly Leandra was but the effect of her demise was visible on both Varric and Isabela. She must've been someone important to them, judging by their expressions. He quietly listened to their conversation, feeling dread slowly gathering in the pit of his stomach.  _ Is it getting colder in here? _

"Maker's breath.. What happened?"

"Murdered by a blood mage."

"Shit.. How's Hawke taking it?"

"Poorly.. She'd secluded herself in her chamber and doesn't want to see anyone."

Shaking her head in disbelief, Isabela took a long sip from her cup. She couldn't believe that Hawke's mother has passed. So suddenly and without a warning.. Isabela rarely visited Hawke in her house but every time she was warmly welcomed by the same kind and serene woman who now lies dead and cold. Varric mimicked her movements, wincing slightly at his injured arm. A new jolt of concern hit Isabela and she eyed the bandage.

"Are  _ you  _ okay?"

"What?"

Varric looked in the direction Isabela was looking before waving her off.

"Yeah, it's alright."

"Did you have Anders look at it?"

For the first time since he entered, Varric snorted out an unhappy laugh, honestly making Ash'talan slightly jump. That was possibly the most grim laughter he'd ever heard and it honestly put him off. Especially because it came from  _ Varric,  _ of all the people.

"Nah, Blondie is still too traumatized. He's been sitting there almost as long as Hawke hides in her room. Fenris had to  _ walk  _ him to the mansion."

Downing the rest of his whiskey, Varric finally turned to Ash'talan. By the look in the dwarf's eyes he already knew he doesn't like where this is going.

"But I'm not here for gossip. We've been trying to get Hawke out for like forever. I was thinking maybe  _ you _ should go to her.."

"Me?"

He blinked in surprise. That sounded like the worst idea in the world. Merely yesterday Hawke didn't want to see him, let alone speak to him. If she's grieving then he should be the last person who should be coming to her. Luckily, Isabela hurried with an explanation.

"She's been meaning to talk to you but.. Leandra was her mother, you see."

_ Mother. _ It suddenly clicked. The kind elderly woman he'd seen in Hawke's mansion when he brought Isabela in after.. his lapse in control. Murdered.. Hawke was always an emotional little human. It's no wonder she hadn't shown up yet. The thought that they'd managed to convince her to stop her silent treatment was comforting. A small glimmer of hope lit up inside of him, even after being snuffed out in such a violent way. For the first time in a week Ash'talan felt he lives. Maybe it was still possible for him to settle things between them. He was given a rare chance and he's a man who doesn't miss such opportunities. And yet thinking about Hawke's own suffering made his stomach flip. If the mage Anders was inconsolable for the entire day, he couldn't imagine what Hawke was going through. But he wasn't going to ignore the opportunity to undo his grave mistake. If there's a possibility for him to make a difference, he will try his best.

"I see. I shall try then.."

Varric accompanied him to the Hightown as they headed towards Hawke's estate. Isabela was coming as well to try and comfort Hawke somehow should Ash'talan fail. If she wouldn't make it either, there would be no one left to send to Hawke as Varric said that Miriam managed to kick everyone one by one out already. The closer to their destination they were, the more anxious he felt. Ash'talan never was good with emotions and comforting a mourning human was a task he thought beyond his skill. If he screws up, is Hawke going to hate him even more than she already does?

When the door opened, a strange sight greeted them. All Hawke's friends were in the main hall, along with the two dwarves he remembered from his last visit. The heavy atmosphere is noticeable after the first glance. None of the people present was smiling. Not even always cheerful Merrill. The mabari curled himself up in a corner, quietly whining as the younger dwarf was scratching his ears. A young eleven maid was sitting on a coach as well wriggling her hands in worry, unsure of what she should do. Fenris was pacing from one side of the room to another, his face locked in a frown. Anders took a seat next to the maid and simply stared forward in horror as though he was seeing something others could not. Varric didn't exaggerate if he said that the Saarebas was traumatized. Aveline glared out of the window at the streets of Hightown with a stone face. She was the first to notice the arrival of new guests. Her eyebrows descended low over her eyes at the sight of Ash'talan.

"What is  _ he  _ doing here?"

She hissed like a venomous viper, getting the attention of everyone except for Anders. But no one cared enough to say anything. Even the maid who turned a tad paler at his sight. She was probably the only person in this room who had no idea who he really is since she never got a chance to meet him. She was probably considered lucky by some of the Kirkwallers. He wasn't surprised by Aveline's attitude, she still refused to trust him. Especially in such delicate situations. No wonder. She was there, in the docks when he decided to make his move. And after the storm calmed down, she saw what he did to Hawke. He gave her no reason to trust him.

"Hawke didn't want to speak to any of us so far. Maybe with him it will be different. You know how fond of him she used to be."

Varric explained. Aveline kept glowering for few more seconds before turning her head to look towards the second floor. With a defeated sigh she looked back out through the window, leaning on the sill.

"I doubt it but whatever… In the worst case scenario he's going to die. "

Honestly, Ash'talan had trouble with determining whether she was joking or not. Human humor still escapes him. He looked at all the people in the room, all turning their eyes down. None of them could do a thing. All true and all failed. Then he turned back to Isabela who encouraged him to proceed with a nod and a gesture to the right, hinting out the direction he should follow. Mustering up his courage, he left his mask in Isabela's hands and slowly headed upstairs to Hawke's room. And stopped right before the entrance. He considered knocking or at least warning her of his presence somehow but something felt off. There were no sounds coming out except for a quiet crackling of burning wood in the fireplace. The faint smell of lavender was coming from behind the door but that wasn't all. He smelled something else. Something that made his heart skip a beat. The iron like tint, barely noticeable but still there, filling his mind with the worst possible thoughts. Blood. It took all of his self restraint to stop himself from just crashing into the room to stop whatever the hell she was doing.  _ Hawke fought a blood mage. _ He told himself. Maybe it's not what he thinks… Still, he dreaded to see what lies beyond the threshold. Hesitantly, he reached for the tiny doorknob, twisted it and lightly pushed the door open.

The room he'd seen beyond was greatly contrasting with its hardy and hot-headed inhabitant. The walls were adorned with patterned tapestry, the bed under a rich canopy was covered with soft coverlets and at its head rested two big pillows. Here the smell of lavender was everywhere. It soon became apparent as to why when he noticed some of the dried flowers in a jug on the desk nearby. And there he saw her. Sitting on the side of the bed, hunched over with her elbows resting heavily on her knees, her head lowered. Watching the flames in the fireplace swirl in a gentle dance. She wore the familiar looking set of fine clothes that were folding neatly on the smooth feminine curves of her body. Her face was showing no emotions and her shining eyes were dry, without any traces of tears.

That gave Ash'talan a short pause. In his life he'd seen many humans grieve. Some were simply crying, tears flowing from their eyes ceaselessly. Others resorted to violence to relieve the tension that has built up in them. And others still reacted with utter denial, screaming, disagreeing and wailing how unfair the fate was to hurt them. But Hawke's silent mourning was something he'd never seen before nor could he understand it. She shed no tears, said no words. Just sat there unmoving like a statue with blinking being the only movement she made aside from a slight rise and fall of her shoulders in the rhythm of her steady breath. It was so.. not  _ Hawke  _ that it was disturbing. Quiet click of the lock in the closing door didn't even make her glance his way. She kept sitting there grim, trembling. Ash'talan carefully inhaled through his nose again. He had no doubts now. The scent he caught before.. Hawke reeked of it.

That's when he saw why. In her shaking hand Hawke held a small, blood covered knife. As Ash'talan came closer he realised why it was stained red. Miriam's sleeves were rolled up and her wrists littered with fresh lacerations. Her blood was slowly oozing out from the wounds and rolling down her hands, dripping into a bowl settled between her feet. There was little doubt that the cuts were self-inflicted. He knew a battle wound when he saw one and those definitely were  _ not  _ battle wounds. Ash'talan knew exactly why she did it. He'd seen some of the weaker-willed Qunari suffering from Asala-taar snap and in their panic and despair claw at their own skin or use some sharp tool to do the same thing Hawke just did. The sight wasn't any less disturbing no matter how many times he'd witnessed it. Just like them, Hawke decided to keep her grief to herself, speak no word, shed no tear. Her sorrow has turned into self loathe as she most likely blamed herself for the death of her mother. And thus, she took out the anger that was packed up inside of her on herself, causing herself pain and shedding her own blood in vain hope that it would make her feel better.

Ash'talan decided not to wait any longer when he saw Hawke lift the knife to her wrist again. Just like he decided back when he met with Zevran, he had to act. Just for a short moment, he felt sure of himself again and it gave him the strength to finally move. Slowly but certainly, he walked over to her and crouched before her. Hawke finally acknowledged his presence with a short gasp and an aghast look on her face when their eyes met. She clearly wanted to say something but she had trouble with forming a correct sentence. Instead, Hawke froze when he calmly reached for the blade and gently pulled it from her grasp to put it away. She didn't throw him out instantly so it alone could be counted as a small victory. Maybe it was because of shock, but there was no resistance on her part when he took her hands to examine the damage. The cuts weren't awfully deep but certainly horribly painful. Eleven in total. Fortunately, Hawke was prepared to conceal them and brought fresh bandages and a jug of clean water to her room.

Without hesitation, Ash'talan took the pitch and spilled the water over Hawke's wounded wrists. Crystal clear liquid turned red with her blood as it made its way across her skin and into the bowl below where more of the crimson ichor waited. The retired warlord dried Hawke's forearms with a piece of clean cloth that she had brought as well, mindful of each pained hiss she made as the fabric touched her damaged skin. It all felt so natural. As though he'd done it a million times already. Soon, Hawke's wrists were tightly wrapped up in bandages but even after Ash'talan was done tending to her wounds, she kept her small hands in his own. Her hands.. soft on the backs and rough from wielding a sword on the palms. Hands of a warrior.

No words needed to be spoken between them. For the first time since the day they met in the docks on behalf of the greedy dwarf, whose name he can't even recall now (not that it matters), Ash'talan could say with all certainty that they understood one another, right now, right here in their shared suffering. The knowledge of not being alone in pain was somehow making it all easier to bear for both of them. Ash'talan knew he has to do something, make a move, anything. But he didn't know what. Batting down the feeling of humility, he kicked himself for not asking Isabela for any last minute tips in the end. He decided to start with taking a seat by Miriam's side, just like that one night when he told her of Par Vollen only because she asked. But the moment he let go of her hands and stood up, panic passed through Hawke's face as she sprung up to her feet to stop him.

"No, wait!"

Her voice breaking was the only sign of the pain grasping at her throat. Ash'talan hadn't moved from his spot, clueless as to what he should say. The silent suffering he'd seen in Hawke's dead eyes rooted him. And the fear in her voice was so apparent that he could do nothing but hold still, waiting. He rarely saw the indomitable Hawke frightened and in those rare moments when her courage crumbled he didn't know how to act.

"Could you please stay.?"

His eyebrows slowly wandered up in surprise. She thought he was leaving? Well, after the last week it probably wouldn't surprise her if he did. He had all the reasons to do so. Varric seemed to have been right. Sending him to her was a success. Not only did she not kick him out but she begged him to stay. Pleasantly surprised, Ash'talan closed the remaining distance between himself and Hawke. Up this close her head was barely on the level of his chest but she didn't back down. She didn't protest as he cupped her cheeks but there was a glint of disbelief in her wide, aquamarine eyes. Her hands slid up and stopped on his wrists as he leaned down to press his forehead against hers. Her chest was resting on him, so close he could feel on his skin her small and fragile, human heart beating alongside his, seemingly to the same rhythm and yet faster, entirely different.. His whole being sighed with relief as he inhaled the smell of flowers lingering in her hair, her clothes.. and immediately felt oddly but pleasantly at peace. She's here. She's his. Even if only for a short moment.  _ Calm yourself.  _ Wiping a stray tear away with his thumb, he softly spoke to her

"I have no intention of leaving.."

It all felt so horrifyingly delightful. There she stood, her dreams coming true as she was looking into those golden, enrapturing eyes right above her, feeling his warm hands against the sides of her face. Hawke could hardly believe it was happening for real, that Maker has given her another chance. With each passing second she dreaded to find herself in her bed, waking up from this blissful moment. She traced the backs of his hands with her trembling fingers, feeling the coarse fabric on the left one. A bandage most likely. Was it always here? She hadn't noticed.. Her mouth went dry as his forehead bumped into hers. It felt a tad too real to be a mere lucid dream. With how fast her heart was beating, she could've sworn she was about to have a heart stroke and fall dead, face first on the floor. When they'd found Ash'talan in the forest, Hawke could see the lack of passion in his blank eyes but now new light has been reignited in them.

Miriam never thought something like that to be possible. Qunari don't show emotions, don't bond with each other. Some may say they don't  _ feel.  _ At all. That they are ruthless killing machines without remorse, existing only to conquer and wreak havoc on those who oppose them. But then again, this man in front of her (very close in fact), the once-Arishok, technically was a Qunari no longer. She couldn't even begin to comprehend what it was like to abandon everything he knew just to come back here. Despite how ridiculous it sounded, Varric and Isabela were right last night. He did it for her? He was always so confident about his place in the Qun and content with how he lived, not knowing any other way, he would never change it for anything, unless he did feel _ something. _ How could she not notice it? This pleading look on his half-concealed face whenever she looked at him in the Hanged Man. He doesn't exactly strike her as a man who  _ begs.  _ And yet, he did. And she hadn't even realised. The last week flashed in front of her eyes and all of the sudden she felt like crying again. She was such a bitch to him and he came to her in her grief anyway. Between this and the horrific demise of her mother, she felt so small, so broken.. Another tear rolled down her cheek but did not even go halfway down before meeting the fate of the first one. Moving her hands further up to his face, inspecting an old laceration she herself had left on his chin, no longer held together by a black thread, she ran her thumb along Ash'talan's lower lip, before burying her fingers in the strands of wispy white hair.

In this position, it was hard for her to reach him but she tried anyway, climbing to her toes as high as she could. Hawke almost, just  _ almost  _ managed to brush her lips against his before a clawed finger on her mouth reminded her that he's not like her. Not a human.  _ No kissing.  _ This movement said and no matter how much frustration it brought her, Hawke decided to comply. She didn't want to screw up like she did like, how many times now? Three? Maybe even four. Careful, as though anything she might do could destroy this moment, she returned to the starting point with a disappointed sigh. But then to her surprise, Ash'talan leaned down to nuzzle his cheek against hers. Corners of their lips were almost close enough to touch. A slight tremble ran through her at this. That was the closest thing to a kiss she'd probably receive from him. For now at least.. 

And then she felt it again. The deep rumble in Ash'talan's chest that was spreading across her entire body, soothing all the remaining pain. Even with everything going on for the entire day it was extremely difficult not to laugh as she remembered that first time she heard him purr like a huge contented cat. So the infamous Arishok  _ does  _ purr after all. Even though she refrained from laughing, she smiled slightly. She didn't stop Ash'talan as he moved away to take a seat, knowing that he isn't going to leave her alone. Hawke soon took place beside him and laid her head on his broad chest, listening to the calming sound intertwining with his powerful heartbeat as he rested his large hand on her hip. Now she was pretty certain it was real. He really was here, alive and well. Just like she wanted.

They sat there in silence for a long while, Hawke slumped against his side, tracing one of his many scars right below his collarbone with her forefinger, before she finally decided to say something, but only after the soothing rumble in his chest dissipated.

"I treated you like a piece of garbage for the last week and yet.. here you are."

She didn't look up at him as though she was afraid of meeting his eyes again. He knew he ought to say something but words just wouldn't come to him. Instead, he hummed thoughtfully, waiting for her to speak again.

"Go ahead. Ask me why I'm avoiding you."

Hawke murmured into his scarf with regret etched into each word leaving her mouth. This time, Ash'talan knew exactly what to answer her. He knew why. There was no point in asking as there was nothing to clarify. She was hurt. Hurt because of what he did.

"No need for that. I am aware of the reason."

He said, looking into the fire, feeling his heart begin to race. Hawke also visibly stiffened, certainly having sensed his agitation as she swallowed down the tears that just wouldn't well up in her eyes. Looking at her, he could see her jaw clenched painfully tight as her mouth was formed into a thin line. The warm glow of the flames made the room feel cozy and safe, creating a sleepy atmosphere. She spoke nothing so he continued.

"I am also aware that an apology would be insufficient."

That seemed to get her attention. She bashfully looked up at him with her sad eyes shining like two sapphires in the warm light.

"If I could make up for it.."

He started but Hawke didn't let him finish, her words setting his heart into an even faster pace as her hand wandered up to rest beneath his collarbone.

"You can. You already are."

Ash'talan let his eyes wander to finally meet hers. All unease faded just like the last time he was left alone with her. He required nothing more than for her to be here with him. Funny. If he still was the Arishok, she would never get this close to him. This was one of those moments when he pushed away all regret of leaving his home behind. But then all of the sudden Hawke looked away breaking the spell.

"I'm tired, Arishok.."

He was about to correct her there but he bit his tongue in the last moment. Instead he, simply murmured

"I can imagine."

"Have you.. ever wanted to just.. let go?"

Ash'talan let his ears rise slightly at her words. He didn't need to understand what exactly she was trying to say to know that he doesn't like where this was going. It sounded suspiciously similar to the dark and cruel voice in his thoughts that was haunting him for a while now. Too similar. And yet, he found himself asking just to be sure.

"Whatever you mean by that?"

"You know.. just give up. Lie down and.. die.."

He was right. She said exactly what he was expecting but it still gave him this unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach. His furrowed brow relaxed slightly. He knew better than most how it feels like to lose the strength to keep going. To think there's nothing left that matters. The beckoning call of oblivion wasn't unfamiliar to him and it ashamed him now that he thinks about it. This time it was him who lowered his eyes.

"I have, Hawke… and I almost did."

It was certainly not the answer she was expecting as she jerked with more than sufficient amount of concern, reluctantly extracting herself from his embrace to gawk at him. Ash'talan understood again. It's much easier to think that no one will mind if you die than to see someone else do so. Thinking that way is a cruelty. Suicide doesn't take the pain away. It grants it to someone else.

"I.. I had no idea…"

"Hence you asked."

He gave her one of his rare, full smiles, making her smile at him in return. But it wasn't a joyful smile. It radiated with sorrow and defeat. Still, he could've sworn he'd seen a faint blush spill over her cheeks. Maybe it was just the play of light.. Hawke bit her lower lip and nervously rubbed her hands together.

"I assume you know… about mother, I mean…"

The smile dropped from his face. Of course he did. It pained him that if Varric didn't drop by, he wouldn't even be here in the first place. But he was here now. He didn't want Hawke to mourn in solitude. Even though he wasn't exactly sure which words he should use to comfort her. Luckily, it didn't matter much as his presence next to her seemed to be enough, just like Varric told him it would.

"The dwarf told me everything. I am.. sorry. For your loss."

"I.. thank you. I appreciate it."

Her voice cracked again as she spoke. Hawke seemed to be reaching her limits. A single tear shone in the corner of her eye as she sighed. It was already dark outside, thick black clouds concealed the moon thoroughly, leaving no light to illuminate the blackness of the night. The quiet and peaceful atmosphere of Hawke's room was suddenly broken by a flash of lighting and a rumbling thunder that tore the silence apart. And in the same moment Ash'talan suddenly shifted closer to her. Miriam gasped when she felt his fingers curl around her arm and grip so tightly to the point when her hand started to grow numb and the fresh cuts began to throb painfully. There was this look of utter horror on his face as he stared out the window, grasping something on his chest, breathing rapidly and heavily.

"Ash'talan? H- hey, Ash!"

Hawke squealed startled and unsuccessfully tried to pry his fingers open. Her words didn't get to him. Attempting to reach out through the shell that suddenly popped up around him, Hawke ran her forefinger through the loose strand of hair on his temple. Luckily, after a moment, he seemed to calm down as his breath evened out and he released her from his iron grip, looking at her with this strange, absent, unfocused look.

"Wh- what?"

"A- are you okay?"

Ash'talan looked away for a second, rubbing his eyes before he exhaled with relief. Whatever it was, it was over.  _ Thank the Maker..  _ Hawke thought. He seriously scared her for a moment there. Memories of Isabela's tale about something similar and the outcome that was the bruise on her face were still fresh in her mind, even after all this time. Only after that did Hawke remember what Fenris told her about the illness that some Qunari suffer from and that it in fact was about him.

"Yes, forgive me.. My thoughts were.. elsewhere."

"Is this because your.. Asala… thing?"

"Asala-taar?"

"Yes, that. How's it treating you?"

Ash'talan sighed, the remnants of the odd haze fading from his vision as he backed away to give Hawke some space. For a horrible moment she thought he's going to leave anyway but he simply settled himself beside her. As she adjusted herself and inched closer to him, daring to gently knead at his shoulders, making sure to give the scarred one the most attention, she realised how tense he was all of the sudden. But under her hands he relaxed almost immediately.

"I will manage.."

Only slightly reassured, Hawke moved from behind Ash'talan to the front, her hoping eyes silently asking for permission. She didn't have to wait long before she was nested in his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck as she gazed into his eyes, again with those mesmerising sparks in them extinguished. Miriam let her smile fade as she realised she's not the only suffering person in this room. But because of that, she was no longer alone.

Memories were still too fresh, visions of her mother's head stitched onto the body parts of many other unfortunate women, shambling out of the shadows were like a vivid dream, waiting for Hawke just beneath her eyelids whenever she slipped them closed. She wished she paid attention to what Leandra said to her the last time they saw each other.. After hours of quiet sorrow, Miriam couldn't take it any longer. Her stifled sob didn't go unnoticed. She jerked slightly at the claws gently grazing her cheek as she looked into Ash'talan's eyes again with utmost surprise. _Is he caressing me?_ _Now I must be dreaming._

"Don't hide your pain. Grieve all you want."

It put her off a little bit. She didn't want him to think any less of her. Was this some sort of test? How can he encourage her to cry? Qunari don't cry, don't mourn their dead like humans do, and yet he seemed to know the fight within her soul. Ah, what does it matter now that she cannot hold her tears back any longer? Tightening her embrace around Ash'talan's neck, she buried her face into his scarf, letting the tears flow freely as she finally snapped. Within seconds Hawke was reduced into a sobbing mess in his arms which closed around her like a protective cocoon, to keep her away from the cruel world around her. All she knew was that she doesn't wish to extricate herself from this safe embrace. And to think that some time ago they were trying to kill one another..

Ash'talan furrowed his eyebrows in confusion when Hawke's cries slowly morphed into fits of hysterical laughter. He allowed her this close only because she clearly needed it and it was the only way of comforting he could think of at the moment (not that he didn't find her presence soothing, but he'd never admit it out loud. Not yet at least.) but that was a little too much. To say it was disturbing would be an understatement.

"Are you crying or laughing? Because at this point I cannot tell."

"S- sorry.."

She sobbed and pulled away to get a better look at him. Her eyes were red and cheeks wet from tears but she was indeed laughing. Perhaps she was slowly losing her mind. In a city like Kirkwall he wouldn't be surprised if that was the case. It could make even the people with the strongest will go absolutely insane. He knew as he himself was one of them. What else but insanity would make him turn his back on his people just for the sake of one human?

"I just can't.. is this really happening?"

"As far as I'm concerned."

He trailed off uncertainly with his eyebrow raised, not sure if he wanted to know where she was going with this. Hawke wiped her tears off and gave him a wavering smile. That reassured him slightly. Sometimes he still forgets that even she can break.

"I'm.. just glad you're here. Thank you."

Unable to hold it back, Ash'talan smirked.

"And here I thought I'm going to leave your abode dismembered.."

"Oh, shut up, you!"

Miriam snapped back at him, furiously smacking her hand against his chest (she probably felt it more than he did) before returning her head to its place on his shoulder. She didn't need to be reminded about the last week, she was trying to forget and he wasn't making it easier. Ash'talan was  _ horrible  _ at empathy but at least he provided a decent distraction from everything that bothered her. With a contented sigh, Hawke let her eyes close, praying for this moment to last forever.

Unfortunately, it wasn't going to last much longer as a knock on the door almost made her jump.  _ What now? _ She thought with a sour expression, gripping her favorite Qunari's neck tighter, as though she was afraid that if she lets go he's going to disappear. At that Ash'talan growled quietly and forced the words out of his squeezed throat.

"Hawke. You're choking me."

"Sorry."

She muttered and loosened her deadly grasp to let him breathe. Frankly, a few days ago she'd probably only squeeze harder to strangle the life out of the bastard but that's beside the point.

"Hawke?"

Varric's voice rang out from beyond the door and even though she considered him to be one of her best friends, she didn't want him to come in here. Goodness, the stories he'd make up about all this..

"Hmm?"

"We've got a little problem."

Hawke could almost hear Ash'talan roll his eyes at this. Neither of them was in the mood for "little problems". With a sigh of annoyance, not lifting her head from where it rested she groaned

"What is it?"

"The Knight-Commander is here. She says it's urgent."

And this was the kind of problem Hawke wasn't in mood for the most. Whatever Meredith wanted, it could surely wait. Especially when Ash'talan is here. If she caught sight of him here, there would be a serious problem escalating out of this.. He'd most likely need to flee from Kirkwall and hide somewhere while Meredith tried to beat the shit out of Hawke for keeping "the most wanted man in the city" under her wing. For both of them it was painfully obvious that whatever Meredith wanted can't be good. Ash'talan stiffened under her at the mention of Knight-Commander as he knew well that her presence here meant trouble. May the Maker smite her for this horrible timing of hers.. Half-angry and half-exhausted, Hawke winced and called out to Varric.

"I'm in  _ mourning!  _ Tell her to piss off! I'll meet her tomorrow."

A quiet chuckle that came from behind the door gave Hawke an idea that Varric is enjoying this immensely. Shutting down the Knight-Commander like that was a privilege that only Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, possessed and could use it once in a while without greater repercussions. Even the First Enchanter couldn't allow himself for this and he'd probably do anything to be able to just keep Meredith away from himself and his mages.

"Alright then. I bet Fenris will make sure she gets the message."

Fully expecting Varric to leave, Hawke let her jaw fall slightly open when she heard him again.

"By the way. Is Grey Wolf still with us or have you killed him already? It's suspiciously quiet in there."

_ Curious nickname.  _ Hawke mused. Varric had nicknames for almost everyone but Ash'talan's was the most peculiar one.. She was preparing to say that no, she did  _ not  _ kill the Qunari and it was all good, and that she wants to be left alone with him to enjoy the moment they had for themselves but once again she was stunned when Ash'talan answered instead. It wasn't even the fact that he spoke for her that had her recoiling in shock but what he said.

"I am dead and wish to be left in peace!"

Ash'talan was the last person she would suspect of having a sarcastic sense of humor and for some reason she believed that he didn't know that fact about himself until now either, judging by the funny look on his face the moment he spoke those words. There was a quiet snort from behind the door and then

"Ooh.. kay… Have fun then, mister deceased!"

And finally, came the sound of footsteps going downstairs and falling silent soon after.

"Well, well, who would've thought?"

Miriam chuckled, feeling an annoyed rumble coursing through the Qunari's chest. He apparently wasn't keen on talking about how humans started to rub off on him as he immediately changed the subject.

"Why was the Knight-Commander here?"

"I'm.. not sure.."

Hawke was trying to sound convinced but Ash'talan quietly voiced her exact concerns literally seconds later. It wasn't even a question.

"It's because of me, isn't it."

It wouldn't be a surprise if someone actually ended up recognising the former warlord and going straight to Meredith with it and since it was no secret that Hawke knew him the best, the investigation started with her. She heaved out a tired sigh.

"Most likely…"

Few minutes of utter silence passed, sometimes interrupted by a distant thunder, which made Ash'talan stiffen every time, before Miriam found it in herself to ask a question that has been bothering her ever since she started falling for the Arishok.

"So… how does this work? Where do we go from here?"

It was more than a little surprising to learn that Ash'talan knew exactly how to answer that question. He must've thought about it before.

"I suppose it would be better if it stayed our little secret. If anyone asks about me, you haven't seen me ever since we fought at the Keep."

"Are you asking me to  _ lie  _ for you?"

Miriam teased slightly but at the scowl she received she pursed her lips and apologised. He still doesn't like to be interrupted.

"Sorry, keep going."

"As I was saying, I should leave Kirkwall as soon as possible. Your Basvaraad are the least of my problems."

A pang of worry left Hawke reeling back with wide eyes. So soon after their reunion, she was going to lose him again. It.. it didn't seem fair. But on the other hand she knew it has to be done.

"But where would you go?"

"Wounded Coast. Should you ever need anything from me, I'll make sure you find me."

"When are you leaving?"

Ash'talan frowned softly when she tightened her hold on his cowl. She knew the answer even before he made it official and she tried to keep him close just a moment longer. An unknown, yet familiar feeling of fuzzy warmth bloomed in the centre of his chest where his heart was beating out a calm rhythm. Hawke wasn't mad anymore. And that alone made everything seem just a few shades brighter.

"Preferably still tonight. I want no prying eyes on my back."

"Could you at least… stay until I fall asleep?"

Half of him wanted to deny her and say that no, he shouldn't but the look Hawke gave him as soon as he opened his mouth, this pure begging look, where the fresh grief still lingered, that suddenly made him unable to say "no".

"Very well then.."

He purred when Hawke buried her face in his scarf and sighed contentedly. For a long while she wasn't speaking or moving, listening to the thrumming under her cheek. The small heart fluttering in her chest eventually started to slow down to the resting pace as her shaky breath evened out as her hands slowly slipped down from around his neck. And then Ash'talan finally let the unnecessarily and impressively long drawn out sigh leave his body. His eyes were growing heavy as well, he should get going before he too falls into the embrace of his, thanks to the enchanted talisman, dreamless sleep. Carefully not to wake Hawke, he stood up carrying her in his arms before setting her down into her bed. Ash'talan had never seen Miriam asleep. Despite the traumatizing experience of this day, she looked so peaceful. It made him a little envious. To have a calm sleep without the aid of magic.. After carefully pulling a strand of hair away from her face, silently as a cat, he made his way towards the door which frightened him not even two hours before. And right before he opened them to leave, he turned to where Hawke was resting in her bed and without hesitation, he whispered

"Sleep well.. Kadan."

Then, as quietly as he could, he left, locking the door behind him. Unbeknownst to Ash'talan, the moment the lock clicked shut, Miriam opened her eyes and glanced in the direction where he stood moments before, her face scrunched up in confused smile.

"  _ Kadan?  _ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peaceful ending to a fluffy chapter. I hope you enjoyed and that it was worth the wait :P
> 
> Translation:  
> "Basvaraad" - literally "a keeper of a mage who is a bas", sometimes used to name tenplars.


End file.
